


You Leave Me Breathless

by MyChemicalRachel



Series: Breathless [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Consent is Sexy, Explicit Sexual Content, Frerard, Halloween, Kid Fic, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 37,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalRachel/pseuds/MyChemicalRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween night; Gerard is home alone, passing out candy, when a grown man shows up on his doorstep dressed like a hot dog. One strange, yet simple, sentence starts it all; "Ask me about my wiener." One night with this peculiar man seems to change everything for them both, especially when Gerard runs into him where he least thought likely; School. But Frank is far from being a new student. He's Gerard's new teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

My eyelids feel heavy as I watch the flickering television screen.  _Freddy Versus Jason_  is on. Again. God, SyFy needs to start playing more movies. When they advertised the thirty-one days of Halloween, I figured they would play more than the same eight movies over and over again. So far, no luck. 

I let my head roll to the side, resting on the arm of the worn out couch. The smell of old cigarette smoke and stale beer fills my nostrils. I pop another fun-sized Snickers bar into my mouth, fixing my eyes back on the movie. 

"Are Mom and Dad gone yet?" I hear my younger brother, Mikey's, voice coming from the top of the stairs. I mutter an unintelligent response that he takes as a yes and he bounds down the stairs. He stops in front of the TV, directly in my line of sight, and I sigh, looking up at him.

He grins, placing his fisted hands on his hips. "How do I look?"

My eyes graze over his slim figure, taking in his unnerving appearance. My brother is dressed in a skin-tight pink and yellow leopard print tank top. He wears short black shorts, the denim looking like it was uncomfortably riding up his ass, while black fishnet tights cling to his scrawny legs. His look is completed with combat boots, which I immediately recognize as my own, and glittered makeup caked as another layer on his face. I raise an eyebrow, slightly disturbed and mentally scarred for life by his apparel.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" I ask, not even bothering to sit up.

My brother rolls his eyes dramatically, like it should be obvious why he's dressed like a lady-man. "Hello! Rocky Horror Picture Show?!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

I nod easily. "Frank N Furter is still more of a man than you are."

Mikey, unaffected by my insult, simply claps and then squeals. "Thanks, Gee!"

I roll my eyes. "Hey, Mikes," I say. I lean up a little, motioning toward his horribly drawn on eyebrows. "Your gay is showing."

Mikey rolls his eyes again. His hip juts out at an unnatural angle and his palm rests on it, making a butt shelf out of his wiry figure. "Why do you think I waited until Mom and Dad were gone?"

"Where are you going anyway?"

His dark tinged lips spread into a huge grin and he digs absently at the fishnets. "Ray's having a Halloween party and he asked me to come."

I don't know why this surprises me. Unlike my own socially awkward self, my brother is semi-popular, even though he's a year younger. While I was focusing on important things, like passing my Junior year with at least a C average and trying not to disappoint my workaholic parents with my "ludicrous drawings that will never amount to anything," Mikey was free to flaunt his outgoing personality and above-average intelligence. 

Noticing the change in my mood, Mikey hurries on. "You can come if you want," He says quickly. "I'm sure Ray won't mind."

 _I agree_ , I think silently.  _Ray, nor anyone else, will realize or care that I'm there_. Ray will be too busy flirting with my brother to notice and everyone else will, presumably, be either high, drunk off their asses, or, if they get there early enough, both of the above. So I settle with shaking my head. "Hanging out with you and your friends, smashing pumpkins or stealing candy from kids? No thanks, Mikes. I think I'll pass."

Mikey shrugs. "Suit yourself." He pulls a man purse out of his ass, or that's what it seems like at least because I had not seen him carrying one before, and waves his fingers in my direction. "Have fun with your horror movies and one man trick-or-treat party. Just don't get fat."

I stick out my tongue in his general direction before ripping open a small bag of Skittles. I toss one in my mouth, focusing my attention back on the television. Within only seconds, I can feel my eyes drifting closed again. 

Halloween night and I'm home alone. Just my fucking luck, right?


	2. Chapter 2

I feel unconsciousness tugging on my mind. In my head, I see snow covering the hard ground like a ghost. Hills upon hills of pillowy white stretch out before me. The sound of the final scene of  _Freddy Versus Jason_  plays in my ears and subconsciously worms it's way into my serene dream. Within moments, the pure white snow is tainted with crimson blood as Freddy and Jason hash it out. I don't really know where the blood is coming from, but it doesn't stop. It pours like a fountain onto the ground, spilling over and under every visible inch of earth. As I look down at my own body, I see it soaks me as well. I instantly search for any wounds, but find none. The blood isn't coming from me. I glance around myself again, seeing that the two infamous killers before me have stopped fighting and were now watching me with an intent gaze. Jason's face was unreadable, due to the mask, but Freddy looked amused as he held out his fatal hand. They both begin inching closer to me when suddenly a pounding noise erupts within my thoughts. The scene before me flickers slightly before the noise sounds again. This time, I'm jerked into consciousness. Along with the consciousness comes shock and I twitch, accidentally throwing myself onto the floor. I groan, rubbing a hand across my now aching chest, as I stand up slowly. The noise sounds one more time, and this time I realize it's the door. Someone is knocking.

I grab the candy bowl, now half-empty, and move to the front door. I run a hand through my messy hair and blink, forcing the sleep out of my eyes. The sleep seems to immediately disappear when I pull the door open and come face to face with the most attractive man I've ever seen. 

"Ask me about my wiener!" He exclaims. I freeze, simply taking in the sight before me. 

On my doorstep is a man, a few inches shorter than me, with a childish grin spread across his face. He's clothed in a big foam suit, like a mascot. But this guy isn't in a pirate or a shark or any other normal mascot suit; he's a hot dog. Full blown frank and bun, complete with condiments and everything. I can't help but laugh, his sudden exclamation and costume both filling my head with dirty thoughts.  _Bad Gerard_ , I think to myself.  _There are children present! Forget the vulgar images!_

I pull my eyes away from the man before me, forcing myself to focus on the two little girls on either side of him. Even in costume, I can tell they're twins, no older than three. The girl on the right is dressed like a Chucky doll, a few long strands of her blonde hair peeking out from under the red wig. The one of the left wears a flowing white, size-too-big dress and leather jacket, her blonde hair flowing naturally; The Bride of Chucky. That's adorable.

I smile, dropping to my knees in front of them so I'm close to eye level. "Hi, there," I say, glancing between the two girls. "I've got to say, I've seen a lot of costumes tonight, but I think you two have the best." They both grin and latch onto the other's hand. I fight the urge to go  _aww_ , but come on! This is just fucking aww-worthy. "I haven't seen the two of you around here," I say absently, and glance up at the hot dog man. Poor guy was probably their older brother, haggled into taking his younger sister's trick-or-treating. He looked about my age but I'd never seen him before either. My heart thumped at the idea of having a new kid at school, especially if he was this hot.

Ha... I laugh to myself. A hot hot dog. 

The man shakes his head, his eyes seeming to stare deeply into me. That's a feeling I'm not used to, normally people look past or through me. Not really  _at_  me. It makes me feel exposed and my heart jumps again. "We just moved in down the street."

I nod and look back to the girls, trying to stop my mind from the various dirty places it's currently trying to explore. "Here you go," I hold out the bowl of candy toward them. "Take as much as you want." Looking at the wall clock nearby, I realize begger's night is nearly over. These three cuties were probably my last trick-or-treaters of the night.

The two girls abide, reaching their tiny fingers into the bowl and pulling back, each with their own little stashes of sugar. I stand up, clutching the bowl to my chest and smiling at the man. He nudges one of the girls, the one dressed like Chucky. "Say thank you."

"Thank you," Both girls chime in unison and I grin.

"You're very welcome," I say.

I watch as the girls skip down the walkway a few feet before stopping and peering into their bags of candy. The hot dog man waits, though, smiling at me one last time. "Thanks," He says, his voice lowering a little and becoming husky. "You know, the girls we be leaving at about nine," He bites his lip, his eyes grazing over me. I feel a blush creep onto my cheeks and silently thank god it's dark enough so he won't see. Though blushing is probably the least embarrassing thing at the moment. After all, I'm not the one dressed like a giant hot dog. "You could always come over if you want. Beats the hell out of sitting here alone."

I nod once, a forced motion because my brain seems to have suddenly stopped working.  _Is he hitting on me?_  

"Cool," He grins happily, and then nods his head down the street. "I'm the yellow house on the end." I smile back and he turns to leave before stopping. "Oh," He says turning back to me and winking. "You can ask me about my wiener then."

And then he's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing I do when I shut the door behind the wiener man is run upstairs to the shower. That attractive, still nameless, stranger just invited me to his house and I don't want to smell like funk when I show up. I pause, water beating down on my hair and running down my body, realizing how strange this whole situation is.

If I'm thinking with my upstairs head, I know I should call off the plans; Just stay home and stuff my face with more candy. But my below-the-belt head is already twitching with excitement, knowing that tonight could be much more fun than a Snickers bar and another horror movie. So, when I jump out of the shower-- literally jumping and almost breaking my ass when I slip on the tile floor-- I wrap a towel around my waist and practically skip back to my bedroom.

Searching through my closet, it takes me quite some time to find clothes I consider acceptable for tonight's affair. Nearly thirty minutes later, I am fully clothed in perfect attire, from my favorite jeans and Black Flag tee to a fairly new pair of ironic Nightmare Before Christmas boxers.

I sneak into Mikey's room, trying to be stealthy because I don't want him to realize I've been in here, but end up tripping over some clothes peeking out from under the bed and catching myself on his lamp, which does nothing but fall to the ground on top of me. Twisting the lampshade in an attempt to free myself, I leave it lying on the floor and set my sights on the bottle of cologne; My initial target before the lamp attacked me. I spray a generous amount of the yummy smelling liquid all over me before gently placing it back on the dresser and heading downstairs.

As I'm slipping on my shoes, I take notice that it's already 9:15. My heart jumps in my chest, landing in my throat, and I bite down hard on my lip. I feel nervous for a moment and it makes my stomach twist, but my excitement seems to overpower the menial first emotion and I push myself toward the door. Locking it behind me, it feels like I'm locking my destiny into place. Wow, Gerard, that sounds really over dramatic. Your destiny? This is one date.

Whoa. Date? This is not even a date. This is a hang-out session with a random, attractive stranger. A new neighbor, apparently. I'm just welcoming him to the neighborhood. I'm also hoping to welcome his dick into my ass, though I should probably learn his name first...

I stop almost instantly when I reach the yellow house. It's average, just like every other house on this street, or in this town. The grass out front is growing longer than usual and the bushes reveal decaying flowers, but the house looks rather lively. Lights flicker inside, both upstairs and down, but I can see no movement behind the curtains. Taking a deep breath, I walk the small stone path up to the porch, knocking on the door twice before I have the chance to chicken out. I only wait for a few short moments before the door is pulled open and once again I meet that piercing hazel gaze. My heart starts beating too fast and for a second I think I may be having a heart attack. That would just be great; Die on his doorstep because he's prettier than humanly possible. That would be embarrassing.

And then he grins and my heart just stops working. I think it blew a fuse and the blood didn't pump through it anymore. Instead, it was all rushing toward my dick. I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and mentally slap myself. I need to say something.

"You're pretty."

Fuck, that was not what I wanted to say. My eyes widen measurably when the words leave my mouth and I have to fight to stay standing instead of turning around and sprinting back to my house.

Wiener man just giggles-- HE FUCKING GIGGLES AND IT'S THE CUTEST SOUND I'VE EVER HEARD-- and I think I see him blush under the porch light. He pulls the door open wider and steps aside, motioning with one hand. "Come on in," He says. "And... Uh... Thanks. I think."

Inside, I have more of a chance to look at him. He's no longer dressed as a hot dog, now clothed in plain black jeans and a shirt that reads "KILL EM ALL." His black hair, under a baseball cap earlier, is now a free mess, tangled even at it's somewhat short length. My mind registers on the tattoos that I see clearly now, lining both of his arms in decoration and absolute beauty. I can only make out a few distinct things in the inked-on collages, but they intrigue me. It's actually kind of weird that someone my age has that many tattoos, but I barely have time to think about it because suddenly his lips are crashing onto mine.

He has to stand up on the tips of his toes, leaning into me, which I find beyond adorable. Without hesitation, I bow my head lower, kissing him back. It only lasts a second before he pulls away, grinning up at me and leaving me wanting so much more. "Sorry," He apologizes quickly, blushing. "But I've been wanting to do that since you opened your front door."

Now it's my turn to smirk, leaning in for another kiss but stopping just short of his lips touching mine. "Wait..." I say, putting up a single finger between us. Wiener man looks disappointed and bites down on his bottom lip. "I gotta ask something first; What's your name?"

He sighs, looking relieved, and grins again. "Frank."

I nod, rolling the name around in my head. "Frank, the frank." He rolls his eyes, pouting a little at my joke. "I'm Gerard."

He hums, a sound low in his throat, and wraps his arms around my neck. "Well, Gerard," Frank says. "How about we get this party started?"

It's a mess of sloppy kisses and breathy pants as we stumble toward the stairs, Frank leading the way, obviously, since I've never been here and this is his freaking house. I'm not willing to part from the smaller man as we tugs me forward, going up the staircase before me and actually making him about the same height every other step. When we finally reach the upstairs hallway, Frank kicks open a random door and pulls me inside. Shoving the door closed, he presses my back against the flat surface, his chest against mine. His tongue laps over my lips, grazing my teeth and massaging my own, exploring every inch like he's the fucking Christopher Columbus of my mouth. I moan-- or it may have actually been a desperate sounding whimper-- when I feel his hands roam up my shirt, his gentle touch cool against my warm skin. He tugs at the fabric and, though I know what he wants, I decide to tease him. My own hands cup his ass, grinding my hips forward in the same movement, and eliciting a small gasp. Taking advantage of the sudden control I have, I move forward. I have to open my eyes to see what direction the bed is in and make my move. With the bed behind Frank, I have the upper hand, and push him down onto the mattress before climbing on top of him. With this being the first real time our kissing has ceased, I take the moment to look at him. He writhes beneath me, desperate for contact that he's not getting just yet. His pupils are wide, blown up with the lust and passion, and his lips look swollen and red from the kissing. He watches me with a pleading look, begging me without words for more.

Straddling his waist, I take hold of my shirt and pull it over my head. As soon as the clothing is gone, I feel his hands on my chest, my abdomen, my back, just grazing the skin. Simply feeling. There's a hungry look in his eyes and I can't fight it anymore, bringing our lips back together. My mouth only stays on his for a moments before I'm trailing kisses down his jaw, leaving a line of them down his neck. When I reach the spot just below his ear, a small sound escapes him and I grin, biting down softly. He gasps when I do so, his hips bucking up into mine, but I pin them down. Sliding his legs apart with my knee, I continue sucking on the supple flesh, nipping and then kissing, repeating the pattern again and again. I feel his palms flat against my chest and immediately pull back, allowing him room to tear his own shirt off.

My eyes skim over more tattoos that scatter his chest and stomach, not having the time to admire the beauty before our positions are flipped and Frank is on top of me. He barely even glances at me before his lips connect with my neck, instantly sending chills down my spine and an embarrassing noise from my throat. It only turns me on more when I hear Frank moan my name, the vibrations of the single word reverberating against my neck.

His kisses trail lower at the same pace as his hands, so with his tongue swirling around my nipple, his fingers briskly unbutton my jeans. I suck in my bottom lip when I feel his hand slip into my boxers, stroking me at an agonizingly slow pace. His lips stop moving and he looks up at me, clearly enjoying the reaction he's inciting.

I try so fucking hard to not whimper or allow any other embarrassing noise escape, but when Frank leans closer, his lips brushing my ear, I can't help it. "Top or bottom, baby?" He asks and just the simple question sounds like a moan falling from his perfect lips.

I gasp when he tightens his grip around my throbbing member and realize that I still haven't answered. I don't know what to say really. I'm not exactly an expert at this-- I've only ever had sex twice and both times were with a girl. I didn't exactly get an option. Of course, that was before I realized that girls are bitches and I prefer guys.

Again; I still have not answered Frank. "Fuck," I moan. Dammit, that is not an acceptable answer to his question.

And yet, somehow, Frank seems to understand perfectly and grins. There's that same seductive glimmer in his eye when he slowly pulls my jeans off, boxers following on their own, and my erection springs free. The cool air hits me like a brick wall and I shiver at the lack of contact, watching Frank as he slides off of the bed. First, he moves to the nightstand to my left, opening the top drawer and producing a bottle of lubricant and a entire box of condoms. He stands at the end of the bed then, his wide eyes locked on mine as he unzips his pants and lets them fall to the floor. He doesn't break eye contact, moving at an agonizingly slow pace, as he climbs forward on the bed on all fours.

Hovering over me, he brings the small square package to his lips. Using nothing but his teeth, he rips open the condom, sliding it out of the wrapper. Frank lowers his head, his gaze still on me, and licks a single line from the base of my cock to the tip, his tongue sliding over the slit and making me growl with the intense pleasure. His face is a mixture of lust and pride as he rolls the condom onto me, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin and making me shiver. When I've got the rubber on, he pops off the lid of the lubricant, squeezing a generous amount out into the center of his hand and rubbing it down my length a few times. Watching his swift movements has me in awe. The way he moves so sure of himself, like he's done this a thousand times. He seems so confident and downright sexy, especially when he holds out the bottle and bites his lip. "You wanna do the honors?"

For a second, I don't understand what he's asking me, but when the question registers in my head, I'm shifting my position immediately. I squirt some of the lube into my hand, following Frank's previous actions, and then coat two fingers with the off-white substance. I lead Frank backwards so he's lying with his back on the mattress and position myself between his legs. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I don't dare admit right now that I'm somewhat inexperienced in the area of expertise. But I call forth all of my knowledge on gay sex and figure I'll wing it. If I fuck up, hopefully Frank will tell me I'm doing it wrong.

But as I slide my fingers across his thigh to the puckered entrance between his legs, his eyes drift closed. His head falls back and his mouth opens in silent ecstasy and I think I'm doing it right. I think it takes longer than it should, preparing him, because I don't know how long I should push in and out, scissor my fingers, add another, and he constantly grinds down onto my fingers, pleading for more. Finally, when he curses me and wraps his legs around my waist, I assume he's prepared enough and ready myself for entrance.

As I line myself up with Frank, I feel nervous again. The ball of worry and excitement knots in my stomach and I hesitate. But when Frank reaches up, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me down for a heated kiss, I feel the knots loosen, replaced with butterflies. Moving my lips against his, I push forward, leaving my own little world and entering Frank's. Connecting with him, joining as one, moving together. It makes all of my hesitation disappear, as Frank's hands tangle in my hair, nails digging into my back, and the only thing I hear is his voice moaning my name.


	4. Chapter 4

Frank leans across me, his chest brushing against mine, sweat and other bodily fluids gathering in a sticky mess between us. Pulling open the nightstand drawer, I can do nothing more than watch him like a complete and total creeper because I still can't believe I just had sex with this beautiful human being.

"You are human, right?" I ask suddenly.

Frank, still leaning over me, just smirks and lowers his lips to mine in a slow kiss. "Yep. I'm human." He pulls back, grinning, and grabs something from the stand beside me. When he sits back on the bed, I look over at him. It's a small box and as he flips it over, a single cylinder falling into his waiting fingers, I realize what it is. "You want one?" He wonders, offering me the pack of cigarettes. I happily take one and let him light the end for me. Pressing the filter to my lips, I greedily inhale a thick breath. The smoke falls over us, layering us in silence.

Frank rolls over on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow and smirking down at me. He doesn't speak, simply letting his eyes trail over my body. I allow myself to do the same, enjoying the show. Tattoos cover the majority of his skin, the ink splayed out in intricate designs and small pictures. I reach out to him, brushing a few fingers across a bird painted on his lower stomach. "These are incredible," I find myself saying.

Frank beams, pride swelling inside of him, and nods. "You think so? I got those ones a few years back."

"Which one was your first?" I ask.

"This one," His grin widens and he rolls over. Towards the top of his back is a jack-o-lantern with the words Keep The Faith written just above the image. I trace my fingers over the ink, feeling goosebumps raise at my gentle touch. "I got it on my eighteenth birthday."

"What does it mean?"

He rolls back to face me, the forgotten cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers, and shrugs. "I like Halloween. It's my birthday."

"That means today," I realize. "Today is your birthday." Wait. My words trail off slowly as another realization dawns on me. He got that on his  _eighteenth_  birthday? Obviously it isn't new. Then...

Frank nods sadly. "I was supposed to go out with a few of my friends, but I ended up having to take the girls trick-or-treating instead." He shrugs and puts the fag to his lips, sucking in.

"Yeah," I look around the room hesitantly as if the two small children are about to emerge from the woodwork. "Where are they, anyway?"

"Their moms," Frank explains.

_Are his parents divorced?_  I wonder absently, but his next words explain everything.

"My ex-wife hates Halloween," He says. "I wasn't going to let my kids miss out on trick-or-treating. That's like child abuse."

"Your...  _Kids_?" I let out a short, unsteady breath and swallow down the sudden urge to freak out. "They're  _yours_?"

"Yeah," Frank sits up straighter, picking up on my shock, but for a completely different reason. "But Jamia and I are divorced," He says in a hurry. "So this--" He motions between us. "It isn't like I'm cheating. I'm a single dad."

_Dad_. Oh my fuck.

"Frank?" I ask, the panic still building and about to bubble over. "How old are you today?"

"Thirty-one."

With my not-so-quick math skills, I add up the numbers before the realization hits me hard. This still-naked man lying next to me is fourteen years older than me.

"Oh shit." I can't help the words that fall near silent from my lips, but the next three times I say it are much louder, emphasized by the way I jump off of the bed and scramble to throw on my clothes. "Oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT."

"Gerard?" Frank stands up, still fucking  _NAKED_ , and instead of his eyes, my gaze lands on his dick. I cover my eyes and curse myself again. "Are you okay? You're seriously freaking me out."

"I'm fine, I'm--" My words are cut off when I finally look into his eyes and I see the concern filling them. My voice drops to a whisper and my hands, filled with my jeans and shirt, stop moving. "I'm seventeen."

Frank's eyes widen and he freezes. "Oh shit."


	5. Chapter 5

"You're kidding, right?" Frank watches me with huge eyes, panic lighting up the hazel color and making them almost sparkle in the dim light. He's still standing there naked and it's taking everything I have to keep my gaze locked on his face. I can't manage a response, so I settle with swallowing hard and tightening my grip on the jeans and shirt I clutch. "Oh shit," He sighs. "You're not kidding."

Frank starts pacing the floor, knotting a hand in his black hair, still sticking up at weird angles from the sweat. After only a step, he seems to realize he's  _STILL NOT WEARING PANTS_  and he dives for the sheets, practically ripping them from the bed and holding them in front of himself. Oh now he's modest? I roll my eyes. "It's not like I haven't already seen it," I say.

"That was before I knew you were a fucking kid!" Frank yells and more panic settles in. "Oh shit, you're a kid. Oh  _shit_!"

"I'm a minor," I correct stubbornly. "That doesn't mean I'm a kid."

"You are  _seventeen_ ," He says carefully, the last part being only a whisper like the cops might show up and arrest him on the spot if he says it too loud. His eyes go out of focus and he looked scared, starting to mumble to himself. "Oh shit, I just had sex with a minor. I'm a pedophile. I'm going to hell. Screw hell, I'm going to  _jail_." He pauses, letting his own words sink in. Suddenly he looks up at me, raising an accusing finger. "You!" He says. "You were consenting. You didn't say no. This is just as much your fault as it is mine. You can't tell anybody about this."

He swallows hard and hesitates, looking down at his feet before moving forward a step. He looks up at me, some of his panic subsiding and replaced with desperation. His voice lowers, taking on a pleading tone. "Please, Gerard," He says. "You can't tell anybody about this. I didn't know you were a minor. Forget about jail and hell-- If anybody finds out about this, I'll lose my kids." He shakes his head sadly, begging me with his now slightly duller hazel eyes. "Please. I can't lose my kids."

In all honesty, I was never planning on telling anyone. I just had the greatest night of my life with this man, regardless of the fact that he's fourteen years older than me, but it's not like I was planning on going off to my non-existent friends and bragging that I got laid. So I simply nod and force a sad excuse for a smile. "Don't worry," I promise. "Nobody has to know."

Frank sighs, relief flooding over. "Thank you." He says. Motioning between the two of our chests, he bites down on his lip-- His luscious pink, kiss-swollen lips that tasted so good ten minutes ago. "So this..."

"Never happened," I finish.

Frank actually smiles, nodding in agreement. "This never happened."

_** (A/N: Yay for short chapters! I love short chapters. They're the best. I update quicker when they're short, so I hope you enjoy them, too. This was a tad bit more of a serious chapter, but the next chapter should hopefully be funnier. :D -MyChemicalRachel) ** _


	6. Chapter 6

It  _never_  happened.

_This_  never happened.

Regardless of the constant repetition, I can't forget the way he looked. It wasn't supposed to happen, it shouldn't have happened, I was going to pretend like it never happened, but the truth was still pelting me from all sides like a BB gun;  _IT HAD HAPPENED_. More than that, it was fucking amazing. It was mind blowing and life changing and I was lying on my bed trying to act like I wasn't going crazy thinking about him. Because apparently _it never happened_...

The way his body fit so perfectly with mine... Not real.

The glazed over look in his bright hazel eyes... Obviously I imagined that.

The way he moaned my name, planting open mouthed kisses all over my chest and neck...  _It never happened_.

I groan and push myself out of bed, sick of laying there as lifeless as a corpse. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins at just the memory of him and I needed to move. At first, I pace the length of my floor, trying to get the image of Frank out of my head. When that doesn't help, I find myself going farther; I storm out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. I don't know exactly where I'm going, but anywhere is better than here.

I wind up in a vacant parking lot. I think the worn down building before me used to be a Walmart or something, but now the front windows were boarded up and the lot was empty. I don't know why, but the abandoned atmosphere makes me stop. I sit down between two faded yellow lines, falling back and resting my head on the asphalt, and close my eyes.

Being with Frank never happened...

I hadn't seen him since last night, when I bolted out of his house as fast as my legs could carry me, but I could remember the terror and desperation on his features. He didn't look old. I mean, thirty-one isn't really  _old_ , just older. But that cute little smile, the short stature, the overall innocence-- it all added up to make him look so much younger than he actually was.

No. I inhale deeply and run both of my hands over my face. I'm going to drive myself crazy thinking about him. I just need to find something else to focus on, that's all.

But I'm the weird kid with zero friends. I'm about as interesting as a box of oatmeal. What am I supposed to do to keep my mind off of him?

The answer comes to me when the cell phone in my pocket buzzes, alerting me to an incoming call. I sigh and press the phone to my ear. "What?"

"I need your help." My brother's voice informs me from the other end. "I have an art project due Monday and I haven't even started. Will you do it for me?"

Normally, I would laugh, tell him to do his own damn homework, hang up the phone, and laugh again when he fails the project, but this might be just the distraction I was looking for. So I agree.

Twenty minutes later, I regret this decision.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No way in fucking hell. No. I'd rather put my penis in a toaster."

"Eww," Mikey's eyes widen a little. "Dude, that is so disturbing." He shakes his head quickly and recovers. "Look, it's due Monday. The teacher grouped the three of us together and gave us our influence. I don't see another choice."

I sigh. "Who was your influence?"

Mikey shrugs, looking toward the others for help. Ray, my brother's familiar on-again, off-again boyfriend, is seated on his bed watching us silently while Bob, a friend of Mikey's I've never met before, spins in the wheeling chair, ignoring us completely. "I don't know," Mikey says. "Thomas Edison or something like that."

"Mikey, Thomas Edison was the one that signed the Declaration Of Independence," Ray speaks up.

I bite down on my lip and pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers. "How the hell are you guys even allowed inside of a school? You're all dumbasses."

"Our influence is Thomas Eakins," Bob says, sounding bored. I look up and my gaze is caught with bright blue eyes. "He does a lot of nude paintings, which is what we're aiming for. So will you help us or not?"

I purse my lips, thinking for a second. "You're keeping your boxers on or I'm castrating you," I finally say. "I'll make up the parts that are below the belt."

Mikey grins and nods. "Thanks, Gee."

Ten minutes later, Mikey, Bob, and Ray are all perched in the middle of the floor. Ray lays down on his side, arm propping him up. Bob sits near his head, watching Mikey with a vacant expression. Mikey, who is strewn across Ray's lap, watches me. I focus all of my attention on finishing this damn drawing as fast as humanly possible so they can all put their clothes back on.

When I'm finally finished sketching, I tell them they're allowed to get dressed before grabbing the canvas and ducking back into my own bedroom. Alone in my sanctuary of solitude-- that sounds really depressing-- I can focus on the details and finishing the paint.

Dull colors mix together on the canvas, swirling darkly around the figures in the center. I seem to get lost in the image and lose track of time completely. I don't even realize when I fall asleep at my desk.

When I wake up, the skin on my face feels hard and stiff. Lifting a hand to my cheek, the dried paint crumbles under my fingertips and I groan. My back hurts and my head feels fuzzy, but at least the painting is still intact.

I spend most of Sunday finishing up my brother's art project. It's mindless work mostly, brushing paint onto the canvas in mechanical movements. I don't realize I've got company until a finger is stuck into my line of vision and a voice jerks me out of my trance. "What's that?"

After jumping twelve feet in the air and having a heart attack, I manage to calm my breathing down and actually look at who is talking. Bob watches me with an innocent expression, amusement clear in his crystal blue eyes. "Ever heard of knocking?" I ask.

Bob just shakes his head and smiles a little, turning his attention back on the almost finished painting. "What's that?" He asks again, his slim finger pointing to his own shoulder where a string of ink swirls grace the painted skin. Similar tattoos line Mikey's side and Ray's chest. "If I recall correctly, none of us have tattoos."

"Oh," I shrug, looking back at the picture. In all honesty, I hadn't really realized I had added those. "Well, Eakins did nude figures, but he also added other things that he thought added to the overall image, stuff that wasn't in the original." That was complete bullshit, but I hoped Bob didn't call my bluff. He just nods thoughtfully, studying the picture for a few long moments. Awkward silence falls over us and I spin absently in my seat.

"You might want to fuck something up," He finally says.

I look back down at the painting before frowning at him. "What?"

"It's way too neat," Bob explains, looking back down at me. "No way Miss Z will believe me, Ray, and Mikey did this."

I nod slowly, watching the picture and hoping it might just fuck itself up. "What should I do?" I ask.

Bob leans down over my shoulder, gesturing with one hand to the outline of each figures body. "Maybe go outside the lines a little," He suggests. Before I can object, he has my paintbrush in his hand, retracing over my lines and making them dip just outside the figures body and giving them an amateur look. "Like that."

I look over at him and realize in that moment just how close he is. My words get stuck in my throat when he turns his gaze to meet mine and, before I can react, his lips are on mine.

Yep. This is exactly the kind of distraction I need.


	7. Chapter 7

Hands twist in my shirt, pulling me out of the chair and to my feet. He's only an inch or so taller, but I pull him down against me, craving the closeness. His tongue hesitantly grazes my lower lip and I eagerly part my lips, driving the kiss further. I shove him back, not daring to break the contact, until he stumbles back onto the bed. Falling on top of him, I grin and situate our bodies so I'm straddling Bob's waist. He chuckles softly but the sound of a moan overtakes it when I grind my hips down. His hands pull at my shirt and I smirk, allowing him to lift the fabric up and over my head before slinging it to some unknown destination across the room. When I lower my mouth back to his, it's just a soft kiss. My lips are parted and I pant with the sudden intake of breath. He grins, his clear blue eyes flicking all over my face, seeming to take in every detail.

He's cute. His strawberry blond hair is cut short, an attractive amount of scruff growing across his chin and cheeks. Not too much, but not so little that it looks like he's sprouting a pedo-stache. His eyes are glimmering with seduction and lust and I lower myself back to him.

My lips trail away from his, down to his neck. I hear a slight gasp of pleasure when I hit the spot under his ear and grin. When I pull the shirt off of his body, I take a second to study his torso. Holy fuck, he's attractive. His stomach is toned with muscles and two tiny bars pierce each of his nipples. I immediately attach my lips to his collarbone, kissing down his chest and swirling my tongue around the right piercing. The metal clinks against my teeth and I feel Bob writhe underneath of me, letting a string of cuss words fall from his mouth.

"Oh, shit. What the actual fuck?" The sound of Mikey's voice pulls us apart and both Bob and I shift our gaze to my open bedroom door. My brother stands there, looking slightly disturbed, with a single eyebrow arched. "You told me you were going to see how the painting was going. And now my brother's going down on you? That's nasty..."

I sigh, shaking my head and feeling the red heat up my face. Bob struggles to sit up and I fall to the mattress beside him. "Well, he  _was_  going to go down on me," He corrects, his voice taking on a dull edge. "Then you walked in. It was polite of us to stop."

I let out a short laugh and risk a glance at Mikey. "Fine, whatever," He averts his eyes, keeping the disgusted look on his face. "But Bob you're dad is here, so..." He lets his words trail off and backs slowly out of the room, leaving us alone.

I scramble off the bed, standing up and moving over to stand near my desk. Focusing on the painting, I glance between the canvas and the floor. "Uhh... I'll fix the neatness and give it to Mikey later tonight," I say awkwardly.

When I look back up, Bob is pulling his shirt on over his head. He comes to stand directly in front of me, ignoring the art project completely. He reaches a hand behind to the back of my neck, pulling me in and planting a hard kiss on my lips. When he leans back, he grins. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He asks.

I swallow hard and manage a nod before he smiles once again and leaves the room.


	8. Chapter 8

I feel someone standing behind me before I actually see them. I can feel the close proximity, the warmth of another body almost touching mine, the smell of too strong cologne, and the slight intake of breath. My body involuntarily tenses and I freeze, my arm half inside the locker and an English textbook tight in my grip. A long second passes and I don't move, terrified of who the hell is standing so close to me in such a creepy manner. Slowly though, I turn around, coming face to face with Bob.

I let out a relieved sigh and relax a little. "Hey," I say, letting a small smile form.

A grin lights up his features. "Hey."

Silence awkwardly settles and I bite my lip, not really knowing what to say. I turn stiffly back to the locker and trade out a few textbooks. I can still feel Bob's body uncomfortably close to mine when he finally speaks. "So, I was thinking about what happened last night--" He brushes some of my dyed black hair back, the touch of his fingertips dragging across my neck making me stiffen even further.

"I gave the painting to Mikey last night," I interject. "He said it looks believable."

Bob chuckles softly. "Good. But I was actually referring more to the make-out session. And I was thinking we could do it again sometime. Perhaps next time accompanied with a date?"

I turn wide-eyed to face Bob, who watches me looking nervous and hopeful, and I swallow hard. After Bob left last night, I finished the painting and had time to think about what had happened. When I had him pinned to the bed sucking on his neck, it was a perfect distraction from what apparently  _hadn't happened_  with Frank. But when I had the room to myself once again, I started regretting it. It was running through my head, having Bob under me and kissing me, but instead of Bob, the image of Frank kept coming into my head. Frank's delicate tattooed skin, his rough fingernails on my back, his dark hair matted and tangled with sweat. And last night, it wasn't with the image of Bob in my head that I had taken an extra long shower and imagined it was his hand wrapped around me rather than my own... It was of Frank. And last night when I was lying awake in bed, I had decided that making out with Bob was not the best distraction because it only caused me to think about Frank more, about what shouldn't have happened with Frank, and about what I wanted to happen again.

So I bite down on my lip and tap my fingers against the textbook I have clutched in my hands. "Um..." My words, whatever they might have been, are cut off when the bell rings. I grin at the interruption. "I gotta get to class. I'll talk to you later."

And before Bob can say anything else, I'm sprinting for my next class. English. I slide into my usual seat near the back and keep my head down. I hear a throat clear, but focus my attention on rifling through my backpack for a pen. "Good morning," A voice says, sounding somewhat nervous. "As most of you know, Mrs. Whatsername that used to teach English retired last week." I vaguely remember hearing something about that. Our English teacher was an old bat that always called me Gerald and smelled like my Grandma's attic. The principle made her retire last week after she tried to convince him that students were " _canoodling in her storage closet_ " after school hours, but the noises she heard were actually a rat. "And I'm here as a replacement. My name's Mr. Iero." Oh, the person talking is our new teacher. I glance up quickly to see who the new teacher is, only to begin drooling as soon as my eyes meet the short, hazel-eyed man at the front of the class. He's wearing a long-sleeved black button-up shirt and dark jeans, but I can still imagine perfectly the tattoos hidden underneath the clothing. He runs a hand through his messy hair and smiles as his eyes sweep over the room.

Almost by instinct, my hand darts up. Before he can call on me, the words are leaving my mouth like vomit. "Can I ask you about your wiener now?"

That makes him, and the rest of the class, focus on me, and I cringe back into my uncomfortable seat, trying to take back the words. But Frank--  _Mr. Iero_ \--, and every student in here, already heard them. Frank's bright eyes widen and he stares at me with blatant shock and a small amount of panic, his mouth falling open. "Oh shit."


	9. Chapter 9

You know that moment in a dream when you're falling? It's like, out of nowhere, the ground drops out from beneath you and you're spiralling downward. You can't remember what was happening before, but it doesn't matter anymore-- All that matters is the fact that you're fucking free-falling. And there's that single second of pure terror, that one moment of absolute panic where you think " _this is it. I am going to die_."

But you don't. At the very last possible moment, you're jerked back into reality, away from dreamland, laying in a cold sweat in your bed.

That's what it's like when I see Frank standing at the front of the room. In that single moment, I can see everything playing in his clear hazel eyes. First is panic-- He never expected to see me again and the feeling was mutual; I sure as hell didn't expect to see him in my English class. For that one split second, Frank is utterly terrified.

But just as quickly as the emotion came, it passes and his expression turns unreadable. It's that moment of waking up, back in your bed and safe; Frank's realizing that no one knows what happened between us. We're safe-- for now-- as long as he acts normal.

A forced smile settles on his lips-- the ones I want to kiss oh-so-badly-- and he shifts his gaze around the room. "Umm... sorry about the language," He says. His voice is collected for the most part, but he's shaking slightly when he runs the palms of his hands down his thighs in a nervous gesture before shuffling through a few papers on the desk. He lets out a timid laugh. "It's my first day and I already forgot your worksheets at home."

That causes the classes attention to be pulled away from the previous awkward situation (i.e when I asked the new teacher about his wiener) and a round of " _yay_ 's" sound throughout the room. Frank, still looking kind of hesitant, takes a seat behind the wooden desk, looking defeated all of a sudden. He runs a hand through his black hair, the gesture shifting his shirt sleeve enough for me to catch a glimpse of ink underneath.

The next forty minutes pass the same way; Frank stays hidden behind his desk, claiming he needs to organize his papers-- you know, the ones he supposedly left at home-- while the rest of the class talks amongst themselves in hushed voices. I spend the time hunched over my sketchbook, remembering in detail the tattoos that adorn Frank's body, especially the two birds that hang low on his abdomen. Every now and then, I risk a glance at him, a few times even catching his eyes watching me before looking back down quickly.

When the bell finally rings, I sigh heavily, feeling some of the tension shifting out of the room with the other students. I take longer than actually necessary to pack away my belongings, throwing my bag over my shoulder and slowly making my way to the front of the room. Frank looks kind of terrified when he looks up and sees me, his face paling and his jaw slack. The room has emptied out by now, the only sound coming from the groups of students passing by the open door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He demands in a whisper. For a moment, I contemplate closing the door to give us a bit more privacy, but the idea passes quickly when I remember what happened last time the two of us were behind a closed door together.

"I go to school here," I reply easily.

Frank bites down on his quivering bottom lip. He looks like he's about to cry. "You're seventeen." Wow, he's pretty, but he's kind of slow.

"We already established this," I say. "Remember, right after that thing that never happened?"

His fingers tap anxiously on the wooden desk and he pushes himself to his feet, running a hand through his hair again. The desk still separates us and I fight the urge to pin him to it and fuck him right here and now. "It never happened..." He agrees, though his voice sounds unsure. He turns to look at me, confusion evident in the deep hazel. His voice is a low whisper, not loud enough for anyone passing in the halls to hear. "It wasn't  _supposed_  to happen, Gerard, and I've spent the past few days trying to forget that it ever did. But..." He lets out a shaky breath and his eyes, on me until now, shift to something behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see that students have begun to filter into the room. Frank's jaw tightens and he swallows hard. "Get to class, Gee."

"Frank--" I start to argue, but the desperate look in his eyes makes me stop.

"Mr. Iero," He corrects in a defeated tone. "Please, Gerard."

"Fine,  _Mr. Iero_ ," I say. I lean in a little closer, very aware of the other students now behind me. "We need to talk."

"Later." Frank agrees. "Right now, I have to try to act like a normal teacher."

I nod, dejectedly leaving the room.

•••

_Later_  never comes. Four days pass, each one seeming to blur together. I avoid Bob, who is still waiting for an answer about a date. I try to talk to Frank, but he avoids me. It's like a neverending circle of evasion and I'm stuck in the middle, chasing Frank and running from Bob.

When Friday finally rolls around, I get sick of being ignored. When the bell rings after English, I make my way to the big wooden desk at the front of the room. Frank sits behind it with his head down. I wait for only a second before he seems to realize that I'm hovering over him and looks up.

Dark circles round his tired eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back in his seat.

"You look like shit," I comment.

A small smile graces his lips for only a second. Fuck, those lips... I remember how they felt all over me and immediately have to focus on something else so I don't end up having to waddle to next period with a boner.

"Pretending like it never happened isn't working," He states sadly. "Every time I look at you, I keep seeing you how you were that night."

"Hot and naked and sweaty with my dick in your butt?"

Frank smiles again, laughing. "You have no brain to mouth filter, do you?"

I shake my head. "Not generally, no."

Frank is silent for a long moment, biting on his lip as he studies me. When he leans forward, elbows on his desk, his voice is lower. "I have to pick up the twins tonight," He says. "But we need to talk. Can you come by my house after school?"

I can't help the small smile that forms on my lips and I nod. "Yeah. I'll be there."


	10. Chapter 10

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about going to Frank's house again. After practically sprinting home after school to make sure I arrived before Mikey, I sneak into my younger brother's room to steal more of his cologne. Sure, I was only going over so we could talk, but that didn't mean I wasn't trying to impress him.

Just as I'm about to bolt back out of the front door, I'm unfortunate enough to barrel straight into my brother. He stumbles back but manages to catch himself with the help of Ray, who was walking close behind him.

"Gee, what the hell?" He asks, shoving past me and hitching his bag up on his shoulder.

"Sorry, I'm in a hurry." I go to make my escape, but Mikey begins speaking again.

"For what?"

I bounce on the balls of my feet for a moment and then shrug. "I'm meeting a friend and I'm running late." I fail to mention that this ' _friend_ ' is my new English teacher and I was in a hurry to see him before he had to pick up his children.

Still, my brother's eyebrows raise. "You made a friend?"

I roll my eyes. "Don't sound so surprised, Mikey."

Mikey is quiet for a second longer, a smug smirk etching onto his lips. "Is it Bob?"

"Bob?" Ray speaks up, glancing at Mikey. "Why would your brother be hanging out with Bob?"

"They made out last week when Gerard did the painting for us," Mikey explains casually, like boasting about my sex-life is normal.

Ray just looks between my brother and I, worried. "I don't have to make out with him, do I?"

"Eww no," Mikey grimaces. "No, Bob wasn't make out with him because he did our project. He was doing it because..." Mikey trails off, looking up at me. "Why the hell were you and Bob making out?"

"Because he's sexually deprived, I'm gorgeous, and he wants the D," I state. "Can I leave now? I'm seriously in a hurry."

Before either of them have the chance to respond, I'm out the door. I can feel them watching me from the front porch, though I don't turn to look, and end up going three blocks out of the way before arriving at Frank's house. Once there, I stand outside his door for almost ten minutes, gathering the courage to knock.

He just wants to talk. That's the only reason I'm here. He wants to tell me that having sex with me was a mistake that he regrets profusely. He wants to tell me that having me in class is distracting him because he feels guilty for taking advantage of a minor, though I was more than willing. I've been through every scenario in my head in the past few hours, each one ending the same way; Frank telling me to fuck off because I'm just a stupid kid that's ruining his life. I know exactly what he's going to say already, but somehow I still want to be here. I want to see his mouth forming the words, I want to kiss him and try to change his mind. More than anything, I just want to be close to him again.

Just as I'm balling my hand into a fist and raising it to the door, the sound of a voice stops me. "Gerard?"

I turn around to face Frank, standing on the walkway behind me, a small child asleep in his arms. A pink jacket wraps around the girl's small frame, blonde hair pulled back into two matching pig tails. "Hey," Frank smiles softly, how voice low as to not wake the sleeping girl. "Umm..." He glances back at the car now parked in the driveway. The back door hangs open, revealing the other sleeping twin in a carseat. "Can you watch her for just a second while I put Lily down?"

I nod silently and take a step back, allowing Frank to reach the front door. He fumbles with the keys in his hand for a moment before they clang to the ground. He sighs, attempting to bend down and retrieve them, but I get them first, holding them up. "Thanks," He smiles. He points out which key in the bunch unlocks his house and I push the door open for him. I watch as he disappears into the house, reappearing a moment later empty handed. He brushes past me to claim the second small child, somehow managing to close the car door with his foot, before returning and leading me back into the house.

I wait in the living room, looking after Frank-- and totally not staring at his ass...-- when he ventures up the stairs, presumably to put the second twin wherever he left the first. Shuffling from foot to foot, I try not to remember the last time I was in this house.

Frank comes back downstairs a few minutes later, stopping a few feet away from me, and stuffing both hands into his jean pockets. "So um... Do you want some coffee?"

I bite down on my lip and hesitate. Should I accept his drink offering? It's not like it's an invitation to have sex again-- It's just coffee, right? "Yeah, sure."

Frank turns swiftly and leads me into a new room-- the kitchen. When the coffee pot has been started and is sizzling to life, he turns to face me again. Leaning against the counter, he sighs. "Sorry about showing up with the girls," He apologizes, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't supposed to pick them up until later, but Jamia called me and said they were sick. She was stuck at work and..." His words trail off and he shrugs.

"It's fine," I reply. It's true. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but seeing Frank carrying the twins into the house was... Well, it was fucking adorable. It was kind of the moment when it really occurred to me that Frank is a  _dad_. He has  _kids_. And that didn't freak me out as much as it probably should have...

It's silent for a long time. The coffee finishes and Frank fills two mugs, handing me one silently and sipping on his own. I breathe in the steam, watching him over the brim. He seems to be looking everywhere but at me, but eventually his eyes meet mine again. I want to look away and I pretend I wasn't checking him out, but I can't seem to shift my gaze. Frank meets it with a steady gaze of his own.

"You drive me fucking crazy," He states. His voice is so low, I'm not completely sure I hear him right at first. "You know that right?"

"Uh..." I swallow hard, searching for anything coherent to say, but Frank apparently isn't done.

He sets his mug down on the counter beside him, but I'm clutching at my own like it's a lifeline. "It's the reason I haven't slept much in the past week. Every time I close my eyes, I see your fucking face. And it drives me insane."

"Rude," I mutter, cocking an eyebrow at him. "I think I have a pretty nice fucking face."

A smirk graces Frank's lips and he takes a few small steps forward. When he's right in front of me, he reaches out, taking the mug from my grip and placing it onto the counter. My hands feel empty, my arms limp and useless. But Frank's proximity has my insides twisting in excitement, especially when he grins. "You're a fucking idiot, Gerard," He states. And then his mouth is on mine again.


	11. Chapter 11

It took a second for my brain to comprehend what was actually happening. This is not going how I imagined it would at all. In my head, I had imagined Frank sighing a lot and trying to break it to me easily that he regretted ever meeting me. But in reality, his tongue was in my mouth and his hands were in my hair and...  _Fuck_ , I like this version a lot more.

I let a weak moan slip past my tongue, meeting his and disappearing down his throat. The desperation of the kiss, the tug of his fingers twisting through my hair, it made my head spin. He tastes like coffee and cigarettes and I think I can definitely get used to this flavor.

My hands land on his hips by pure instinct, pulling his smaller body closer to mine. This is it. This is the feeling I had been craving for the past week. But it was different. It wasn't two horny strangers trying to rip each others clothes off. It wasn't rushed or scary. It was nerve-racking, that was sure as hell, but I wasn't actually nervous. This was the forbidden, passionate kiss between a student and a teacher who had feelings that they shouldn't have. And it was so much better.

It lasts a few minutes, long, heavy, and hot kissing, before suddenly Frank pulls away. His touch disappears in an instant and I feel cold. Immediately, I think Frank has come to his senses. He's seeing that this is wrong, he's doubting himself again. But before I even have the chance to move, my head still hazy with the utter shock of what just occurred, Frank is back across the room, picking up his coffee mug and putting a slim finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. Still trying to wrap my head around what just happened, I can just gape at him.

And then I hear it. A small pitter-patter of feet against hardwood as they descend the stairs. I manage to lift my own mug again just as the small child appears in the doorway. I can't tell which one it is, even if I knew their names. But she rubs a hand across her eyes sleepily, yawning and going straight toward Frank.

Frank sets his mug back down on the counter and heaves the girl up into his arms. Her head instantly rests on his shoulder and I fight the urge to go "Awwww." I do allow a smirk, hidden nicely as I take a drink of my now cooled coffee.

"Hey Lily, how are you feeling?" Frank asks the tiny girl. He presses the back of his hand against her forehead, but she only sniffles and groans in response. Frank chuckles. "That bad, huh?" The girl nuzzles into Frank's neck and he rubs a hand over her back. "Is Cherry awake, too?"

As if summoned, the second small child appears in the doorway. She looks like a mirror image of her sister and I wonder in amazement how Frank can tell the difference. This girl-- Cherry-- sniffles as well and shuffles across the floor to Frank. "Daddy," She mumbles, tugging on the hem of Frank's shirt. "I feel ewwie."

Frank kneels beside her and frowns. Brushing some messy golden hair out of her face, he checks her head, too. "Like tummy ewwies, or stuffy-head ewwies?"

Cherry thinks for a moment before sniffling again and wiping a sleeve across her runny nose. "Both."

"Hmm..." Frank hums, setting Lily down next to her twin and looking at the two of them. "How about I get you a Popsicle and you go set up a movie, okay?"

Both of the girls nod before turning and running back into the living room area. Frank stands and moves to the fridge along the far wall, pulling back with two Popsicles in hand, one red and one blue. He then comes to stand in front of me.

He hesitates, looking awkwardly down at his shoes. "We never actually talked," He states. "But the girls will probably watch Mulan until they fall asleep again, if you want to wait around..."

I manage a small nod, still not having the ability to muster words.

Satisfied, Frank leads me back into the living room. Handing each girl a Popsicle, he grabs the remote from it's place on the TV stand. Just as Frank suspected, the Mulan menu is playing across the screen. He takes a seat on the couch, motioning for me to follow, as he hits play.

I sit down next to him, trying to make sure there's a little distance between us. But that attempt is proven useless when the twins clamber onto the cushion on Frank's other side, stretching out and causing Frank to shift closer to me. His body hits my arm and I instinctively put it up on the top of the couch, unintentionally putting my arm around Frank's shoulders. He doesn't seem to mind. Actually, after a quick glance at me, he pulls his legs up onto the couch and shifts again, leaning into my side and resting his head on my chest.

Cuddling with my English teacher while watching a movie with him and his kids-- Definitely not how I expected this would turn out. And again, better than I had imagined.


	12. Chapter 12

By the time the end credits are rolling, Frank's breathing has evened out and the twins are curled up sleeping to his left. I hadn't really paid much attention to the film, far too preoccupied with the man sleeping snuggled into my side. So when the credits disappear from the screen and the monotonous, repetitive music of the main menu begins, I revert my eyes back to Frank. His head rests on my shoulder, mouth slightly open. He looks fucking adorable and I just wanna pinch his adorable little cheeks and go aww in his adorable face, but I'm afraid it might wake him up. I mean, I probably should wake him up-- But he looks so peaceful and... well beautiful.

I shift a little in my seat and shake the older man's shoulder slightly. "Frankie?"

Frank grumbles, burying his face into the crook of my neck and inhaling deeply. His breath ruffles the hair at the base of my skull, sending shivers down my spine and further south. Dammit, Gerard. There are children literally two feet away. Thinking about their father naked right now is not appropriate.

After a moment, Frank leans back, blinking and rubbing his eyes. His gaze lands on me for a moment before he glances first toward the sleeping kids and finally the television. "Shit," He mutters under his breath, his eyes moving back to find mine. "I fell asleep, didn't I?"

I smirk, nodding.

Frank grimaces. "Did I snore?"

"Like a fucking pig."

He lets out a soft chuckle and stretches his arms up, his shirt riding up and displaying the array of ink underneath. I quickly avert my gaze. When he stands up, he lifts one of the girls and then somehow miraculously manages to heave the second up. "I'll be right back," He promises before disappearing out of the room.

When I'm left alone, I stand up. Feeling awkward and out of place, I make my way across the room, taking the DVD out of the player and locating it's case lying forgotten on the floor. I put the disc away and slide the sleeve back into a place on the shelf lined with other Disney princess movies. On the shelf above, a completely different collection resides; Star Wars, Lord Of The Rings, a few Batman’s. And above those, a collection of classic horror movies. I run a finger along the titles, recognizing quite a few of them.

“I see you’ve found my movie assortment.” The voice takes me by surprise and I spin around, freezing. Maybe Frank is one of those people who hates their stuff being touched. I’m ready to belt out an apology, but a small smile plays around the edges of his lips. He doesn’t look mad.

Frank comes to stand beside me, looking over the films as well. “I put the ones the twin’s can’t watch out of their reach.”

I scoff and look down at the shorter man. “Dude, you can barely reach.”

Frank laughs and shoves me. The sudden contact sends more sparks through my blood, exciting me and making my stomach flip with nerves. Frank seems to feel it too because his smile fades and suddenly he’s kissing me again. My back connects with the shelf, a few DVD’s falling to the ground, but they’re not important because Frank’s tongue is doing that thing on my lip again and I’m moaning directly into his mouth. Hands pull at my shirt, first pushing me harder against the shelf and then dragging me forward. I stumble across the carpet, trying to follow Frank’s lead while not breaking the kiss. The backs of my knees hit something hard and suddenly I’m falling backward only to land on the sofa. Frank follows me down, climbing onto my hips and grinding down against me.

His lips leave mine only to trail down my neck, sucking and twirling his tongue against the exposed skin. He bites down on my collarbone and my hips instantly thrust up into his. He moans, a growl low in his throat, as I feel his hands attach to the front of my jeans. Sliding between us, he barely bothers to get the zipper down before pushing his hand into both my pants and my boxers, instantly tightening into a fist around my growing member. He moans my name into the base of my throat, jerking his hand and grinding his hips and I can’t fucking take it. Within moments, I’m twisting my hands in his hair, pulling his mouth back to my own as the orgasm rocks my body.

Frank moans right along with me, the kiss becoming slow and lazy. When his hand slips out of my pants, he wordlessly cleans it off with a few tissues, buttoning my jeans and sitting back on the couch. I pull myself to a sitting position next to him, watching as he produces a pack of cigarettes. He holds one out to me before hesitating. “Umm… You’re not old enough to smoke.” He realizes.

I cock an eyebrow at him. “I’m seventeen and you just touched my penis. I think my smoking habit is the least of our legal problems.”

Frank grimaces once more and hands me the cigarette. Lighting it up for me, he catches my gaze. The flame between us dances orange and yellow, flickering and hot. I think it’s probably some metaphor about the undeniable spark between Frank and I, but all I see is a fire hazard. I breathe in and blow out a cloud of smoke that fills the air heavy around us. “I fucked up,” Frank states sadly. He’s now holding the lighter in one hand, twirling another unlit cigarette between a few fingers. He only watches the thin stick, almost talking to himself. “I fucked up really, really bad.” I stay silent, my thumb running along the smooth paper of my own cigarette, now forgotten as it drops ash into my lap. “But there’s just something about you, Gerard, that makes it seem not so wrong, you know? Like… It doesn’t feel like you’re seventeen. If doesn’t feel like this is illegal and wrong. It feels like…” He finally turns his gaze back to mine and I see the beginning of tears pricking at his hazel eyes. “Fuck, it feels good. It feels like I like you way more than I should. It feels like--”

Getting sick of his words, I lean forward and press my lips to his. Soft and slow and deliberate, I kiss him. When I pull away after only a second, Frank’s eyes are still closed. “Yeah. It feels like that.”

“I like you, Frank,” I admit. “Like a whole fucking lot and that doesn’t happen very often for me. I usually hate people.” A sad smile graces his pink lips. “But I like you, and I don’t care if you’re fourteen years older than me, or that you’re my teacher, because you were that guy that showed up on my doorstep dressed like a hot dog before any of that. That’s the guy I like.”

Frank looks down at his lap again, letting out a shaky breath. “But I’m still your teacher. That’s illegal, Gerard.”

I pointedly hold up my burning cigarette. “And you care about illegal? You gave a minor tobacco.”

Frank rolls his eyes and chuckles. “I’m pretty sure fucking a student is a higher offense than giving him a cigarette.”

I dab out the Marlboro in the ashtray that sits on the coffee table and lean in to kiss Frank one last time. I deliberately drag my tongue across his lip, letting the taste of his mouth taint my own and savoring each second of it. When I pull back this time, I sigh. “Six months, Frank. Six more months until I’m eighteen.” I search his hazel eyes, running my thumb down his jaw and across his darkened lips. “You know what I want. The rest is up to you.”

And with that, I stand up and leave the house.


	13. Chapter 13

The weekend passes in a blur. I spend most of the time in my bedroom, shut away from everyone and everything on the outside. I stare at my phone a few times, hoping that Frank’s name will flash across the screen, but it takes me until Sunday to realize that he doesn’t even have my number, nor do I have his.

He isn’t at school on Monday. One of the teachers with a free period fills in for his class and I spend the entirety of the forty-five minutes sketching, only realizing when it’s a finished piece that I’ve drawn the birds that hang low on Frank’s hips.

Bob tries to catch me in the hall, as I’ve still not answered him about the date, but I manage to avoid him by accidentally running into the girls bathroom. Luckily, no one was in there and I made it safely to class.

Tuesday, Frank makes his return to school with tired eyes and uncombed hair. I have to cross my legs tightly under the desk and imagine Mikey in a thong to avoid getting a boner, because holy shit Frank is attractive when he looks like that.

Someone from the back of the class asks him where he was Monday, to which he smiles sadly, straightening some papers, and replying, “My kids have been sick.”

Concern makes my forehead crease and I frown. I wonder if they’re feeling better. I should make them soup. Sick people deserve soup, right? And those kids are just too cute to be sick and soupless.

However, I seem to be the only one concerned with the fact that the twins are sick. Everyone else in the room suddenly seems more surprised that he has children at all. I mentally remind myself that I’m probably the only one that knew.

“You have kids?” Someone wonders, sounding surprised.

Frank nods absently, shuffling through more papers until he finds the ones he’s looking for. “Yes. Two girls.”

“How old are they?” Another voice shouts, while more speak over it asking, “What are their names?”

Frank sighs, smirking a little. “Cherry and Lily, and they’ll be five next month.” A few girls throughout the classroom aww in unison and Frank holds up the worksheets. “Now, back to English.”

He passes out the papers, his fingertips only gently brushing mine when he places one on my desk, though neither of us outwardly react to the contact. I can’t be sure whether it was an accident or not. He moves back to his desk, taking a seat and telling the class to turn in the work to him when finished. Occasional whispered conversations are heard around me, but the one thing I find more distracting than anything is the way Frank is biting his lip. It’s captivating, the way his tongue touches the pink, supple flesh first, and then the lower lip is sucked in between his teeth. The action is repeated over and over again and it only gets more mesmerizing the longer I watch. Every now and then, he’ll glance up at me and we’ll make eye contact for a split second before one of us looks away. I jump when the bell eventually rings and realize I’ve been staring at Frank practically the whole time and have not answered past question two. I rise to my feet and follow the other students to the front of the room, making sure to move slow enough to be last.

I slide the worksheet onto the desk, frowning a little. “I didn’t get it finished,” I admit. “I was… kind of distracted. Your face. It’s like really fucking distracting.”

Frank chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, sitting up straighter in his seat. “Take it home,” He nods toward the paper. “Finish it and turn it in tomorrow.” I smile and nod quickly, grabbing the worksheet and turning to leave, but his voice stops me. “Gerard?” I turn back to see his head now down, his face deflated and sad once again. His voice lowers though we’re still alone in the room. “I don’t…” He sighs, trailing off and looking up at me with pleading eyes. “I don’t fucking know what I want. And it’s killing me. What the hell am I supposed to do about…  _this_?” He gestures to the space between the two of us.

I shrug, pursing my lips. “Well, personally I would suggest dragging me into the nearest storage closet and fucking me until I can’t see straight.” This elicits a soft laugh from Frank, but I frown. “But sadly, I can’t decide that for you. It’s all up to you, Frankie.”

Behind me, I can hear students shuffling into the room and take this as my cue to leave. Frank is still staring at his desk dejectedly when I turn down the hall and head toward my next class.

It isn’t until Wednesday that Bob finally manages to catch me, and damn it was definitely a surprise. It’s near the end of the day, just before last period, that I’m standing at my locker, stuffing in a textbook and reaching for another, when hands grab me from behind. I’m spun around, taken completely off-guard as I’m slammed back into the lockers. I barely have time to register the pale blue of Bob’s eyes before he’s consuming my face with his mouth. His lips press hard against mine and I can’t move, too stunned to even comprehend what the hell is going on, and then he’s leaning away. He’s grinning like an idiot, watching me.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Bob states. “And I’m sick of it. I want an answer, Gerard. Will you go out with me?”

I open my mouth a few times, closing it again every time without a response. As this action repeats a few times, Bob’s grin slowly disappears. “I don’t know.” I admit. That’s not an acceptable answer at all, but it’s the only one I can manage. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. I  _want_  to… But I don’t.”

Bob raises an eyebrow at me, confusion finding it’s way onto his face. I sigh heavily and lean back against the lockers. “What I’m saying is that, you’re a nice guy. But… I’m kind of holding out for someone else.”

Bob nods slowly and retreats a few steps, giving me personal space. With the short distance between us, I run a hand through my hair. “The day we made out,” I admit further, feeling the need to explain myself. “I was trying to forget about this other person. I kind of used you and I’m really sorry.”

Bob smiles sadly and shrugs. “It’s okay,” He says. “I get it. Kind of sucks, but I get it. And this other guy is pretty lucky.”

I laugh. “Yeah, if only he would realize how fucking awesome I am.”

Bob chuckles and nudges me. “I hope things work out, Gee. And if not… You know where to find me.” With that, he grins and turns down the hall.

I feel kind of better after talking to Bob, though the exchange leaves me running a little late. The hallways have mostly cleared out and the bell is going to ring in a few seconds. I race down the hall, turning a corner too quickly and running directly into another person. I look up immediately, about to apologize, but I’m met with Frank’s dark hazel eyes. They sparkle with a desire I’ve seen a few times before as he grabs my wrist and drags me a few feet to a closed door. Being pushed inside the dark room, my head spins with the sudden change in his attitude. Only yesterday, he was confused and torn, and now he’s shoving me against a supply shelf, tugging at my clothes, kissing me fiercely. I don’t have time to argue and I don’t want to, I simply savor the taste of his mouth on mine, much better than Bob’s. There’s an angry desperation to his actions when he pulls me closer to him.

After a moment, Frank pulls back a few inches. His jaw is tight and his eyes glimmer with lust in the dark of the storage closet. “I want to fuck you until you can’t see straight,” He states, repeating my suggestion from yesterday.

“Why?” I ask. My breathing is short and labored. “Yesterday--”

“Forget about yesterday,” He interrupts. “Fuck, Gerard. I made my choice.  _I want you._ ” He kisses me again, his hands instantly tangling in my hair, his hips grinding against mine. “I saw you kissing him,” He admits, his lips never leaving mine. “I saw how he had you pushed up against the lockers and… That was when I decided.” He pulls back again and narrows his eyes at me. “That was when I decided that I never want anyone else kissing you. I want to be the only one.”

His words make my stomach flutter and I’m silently grateful for the dark so he can’t see the blush lighting up my cheeks. Frank’s hands attach to my belt, his fingers working clumsily at the buckle. As much as I wanted this to happen-- The very thought of my English teacher fucking me in a janitor’s closet making me even harder-- I knew it couldn’t. “We can’t do this here.”

Frank grins, putting his lips near my ear. “Well you’re already missing class and I have a free period,” He purrs seductively. “What do you say we get out of here and head back to my place?”

I nod eagerly, but just as quickly stop. “No,” I realize. “What about the twins?”

A smile graces Frank’s lips, barely visible in the dark, but definitely there as he shakes his head. “They’re at Jamia’s. We have the house to ourselves.”

And in that instant, I am ready to go. I’m not sure if Frank’s in his right mind or if it’s his hormones talking, but at any moment he could change his mind and decide that he doesn’t want me. I’m not wasting any time.


	14. Chapter 14

After sneaking rather stealthily out of the school, Frank led me to his car. In the sort-of-privacy of his vehicle, I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off of him, but he didn’t particularly seem to mind. His hand first trailed up my thigh, his fingers barely grazing over the growing bulge in the front of my jeans, causing a small whine to sound in the back of my throat.

Frank glances over at me, raising an eyebrow and smirking. I lean back farther in the seat, letting out a breathy, “ _Fuck_ ,” when he adds pressure, palming me through the denim. I scoot across the bench seat, unhooking my seatbelt and sliding closer to the man driving. His fingers flex on the steering wheel, knuckles white. I kiss his neck, pulling on the fabric of his shirt for more access to the tattooed flesh. There’s a scorpion etched onto the skin just below his ear and I nibble the ink, savoring the salty taste that settles on my tongue. I tangle one hand in his hair, pulling it back to give myself a better angle, while the other hand settles in his lap. I can feel the increased weight on the gas pedal when I trail a few fingers into the waistband of his jeans, skillfully popping the button open. “Oops…” I mumble, lips and teeth still on his neck. He groans and pushes up into my hand, whether voluntary or not, and I smirk. Slowly, I tug on the zipper, slipping my hand down into his jeans and inhaling deeply when I feel nothing but flesh, not boxers or even briefs beneath the denim. I begin stroking his length.

It’s addicting, the way he writhes under my touch, the uneven pants of breaths, the pleading noises he makes. And within moments, the car is stopping outside of the familiar house. I’m pleasantly surprised we’ve made it this far without crashing when Frank turns to face me, his lips instantly meeting mine. It’s a messy kiss, open mouthed and desperate, but so different from that first night. When he pulls back, grinning at me and grabbing my hand, dragging me toward the house, I know it’s because he wants me, whether I’m a student or not. It’s more than just a fuck to him because he’s risking everything for it.

It seems like within seconds that my back is hitting the bed. The blankets are already tangled under me, not having been made this morning, and the scent of Frank instantly swallows me. Frank is following me down, climbing onto my waist with a leg on either side. His mouth collides with mine is a sweet kiss, his hands immediately attaching to mine and pinning them above my head. Grinding his hips into mine, I feel that same spark I always feel rushing through me when he touches me, or simply looks at me. It’s mesmerizing and addicting and I can’t help the moan that pushes forward.

His hands trail down slowly, tugging on my shirt before pulling it off over my head. With shaking fingers, I undo the buttons of his black shirt, silently praising myself when I manage to get the fabric off without ripping off any buttons. His kisses move down my neck, chest, and stomach, humming softly every few seconds. When he trails back up, his voice husky in my ear, my heart seems to nearly stop. The realization that we are really doing this again, both of us knowing the facts and ages and still completely consenting, has me quivering. “Top or bottom, Gee?”

Without really thinking it through, I’m moaning, “Bottom. Fucking bottom.” And, though I’ve never actually bottomed before, it sounds like a pretty appealing option right now.

Frank leans back, his kisses stopping immediately as well as his hands as they play with the button of my jeans. His pupils are blown wide, his hair messy, his chest already shining with sweat. He looks kind of surprised. “Bottom?” He asks, his forehead creasing. “Are you sure? Have you ever…?” His voice trails off though the question hangs in the air around us.

I shake my head. “No,” I admit. My hands are on his hips and I’m pulling him down closer to me. “But I want to.  _Please_.”

Frank’s hazel eyes glimmer and he grins, kissing me again. His movements slow, deliberate and sure, if only slightly shaky, as he pulls at my jeans. His kisses trail light and soft over my body. My stomach twists a little when he leans across me to open the bedside drawer, producing a condom and the same bottle of lube we used the last time, but his reassuring smile has me relaxing into his touch.

“Put your hips up,” He commands. I follow the directions and he shoves a pillow under my lower back, propping me back up onto it. With my knees up, I’m completely exposed. It’s a little unfair, seeing as his jeans are still intact. He catches my eye only a second later, though, and fixes this, disposing of the last of his clothing.

Laying there on the bed, I could watch him forever. He’s beautiful, every inch of him, and I never want to look away. He’s smirking as he leans down, placing soft kisses to the insides of my thighs, each side, trailing closer to my aching erection each time. And when his lips secure around the tip, my eyes close. This is probably part of his plan, distracting me so I don’t realize when he coats two fingers in lubricant. I feel them as they trail slick toward my entrance, only beginning to push gently against the puckered hole, when the phone rings.

At first, I don’t even realize it’s the phone-- It’s just random Black Flag echoing in my head. But Frank’s sucking stops, his fingers don’t push any farther, and I open my eyes. He sighs heavily, cursing under his breath and shifting away from me. With his clean hand, he picks up the phone. He reads the number, muttering, “Shit,” before answering. His eyes meet mine and he frowns apologetically. “What’s up?” His voice is strained and hard, verging on emotionless if it weren’t for a small amount of annoyance seeping into his words. “What?... No, I’m busy… Did you not just hear me, I’m in the middle of doing something... Fucking hell, Jamia, what is the point of a fucking schedule if you can’t even take care of them when they’re fucking sick?... No, I’ll get them. No! I said I’ll be there!” Frank hangs up the phone and tosses it angrily onto the mattress, cursing again. I really shouldn’t find it so attractive when he’s saying bad words…

I only caught his half of the conversation and even that I didn’t understand, but I caught the name Jamia and put enough together to gather that it was his ex-wife on the other end. I shift on the bed, moving to my knees to match Frank’s posture. “Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly.

Frank looks up at me, frowning again. “Cherry and Lily are still sick. Jamia’s got to go into work and she needs me to get them.” He sighs, moving to run a hand through his hair before realizing just in time that there is still lube slicked over two of his fingers. He uses the clean hand instead. “I’m so sorry, Gerard. You have no idea how much I wanted to do this.”

I shake my head, smiling. I knew I should have made them soup. “No, I totally get it,” I say. “Your kids need you. We’ll continue this some other time.”

Frank’s eyes search mine like he’s studying me. When he decides he likes what he sees, he leans in and kisses me. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I nod. “I’ve been told.”

He laughs once and then turns his gaze back on me again. “So you’re… heading home then?”

I make a face and shake my head. “I can’t yet. Technically, I’m supposed to be in school right now and I really don’t want to have to deal with an interrogation as to why I’m home early.”

Frank bites his lip and tries to look nonchalant. “Well, you can always come with me if you want,” He offers.  He shrugs. “I mean, if they’re sick, I’ll probably just give them medicine and put them in bed anyway. Then we’d have time to ourselves.”

My eyes widen at the undertone in his voice. “Dude, I am not having sex with you while your kids sleep in the next room over.”

Shock settles on his face and he shakes his head, laughing. “No! No, I just meant we could… hang out. No sex. Just a movie and coffee?” The hopeful look in his eyes is nearly too much for me to handle and I find myself nodding.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

Frank grins. “Awesome.”

I return the gesture, trying my best to ignore the fluttering in my chest and stomach when he smiles. Instead, I gesture vaguely to the room around us. “We should probably put clothes on first, though.”


	15. Chapter 15

In the rush to Frank’s car the first time, and the distraction of kissing him on the way to his house, I had failed to notice the two car seats belted into the backseat. Now, as I climb into his car once again, I see them, one pink with flowers, while the other has purple butterflies. The car ride is filled with small conversation, some radio station playing in the background. Mostly, Frank glares out the front windshield, his jaw clenching every once and awhile. His fingers tap and tighten in agitation against the steering wheel.

Without really thinking it through, I reach out. My fingertips brush against the white knuckles clamped hard against the wheel and Frank glances up at me, startled, before smirking and moving his hand to hold mine. His fingers intertwine with mine, olive-toned and tattooed against my own pale, slender ones. He raises the clasped hands to his mouth and places a gentle kiss along my knuckles. For some reason, the simple gesture has me blushing and biting my lip to hold back a huge grin. I cast a glance at our hands, now resting in his lap, his thumb stroking softly over my palm and feel that flutter in my chest again.

When the car pulls to a stop outside of a large, nice-looking house, Frank sighs. Outside in the driveway, a woman waits. Her foot taps on the cement, her arms crossed, brown hair pulled back in a pin. Beside her, the two familiar children wait, matching pink coats pulled tight around them against the biting November weather. I reluctantly release Frank’s hand and he steps out of the car, turning back to me long enough to cock an eyebrow. “Coming?”

Unsure, I stumble out of the car into the cool air, wishing I had brought a warmer jacket. The woman, who I assume is Frank’s ex-wife, Jamia, rolls her eyes irritably and nudges the kids. “It’s about damn time, Frank,” She sighs in exaggeration. “I told you, I have to get to work.”

Frank immediately makes his way to the girls, kneeling before them and looking at each in turn. He pulls the hood closer around one’s face before wiping the second twins nose with his jacket sleeve. “Hey guys, do you feel okay?” He asks, his tone gentle and worried. “You’re freezing. Is your nose still stuffy?”

The first twin nods, sniffling for emphasis, while the second frowns and shuffles her feet on the ground. “Can we go home, Daddy?”

Frank smiles sadly and nods. “Yeah, sure, sweetie. Come on.”

Standing up, he leads both of the girls to the car behind us. As they’re climbing up into their respective carseats, he leans close to me, slipping the car keys into my hand. “Can you start the car?” He asks, his eyes practically pleading. “Turn the heat up. I need to talk to Jamia.”

I nod and Frank smiles softly again. He squeezes my hand once before going back to the woman at the head of the drive. I shut the door behind the girls and climb into the passengers seat, jamming the key in the ignition and twisting the controls on the dash until heat is pouring out of the vents. I glance back at the twins in the backseat and frown. The girl in the pink seat seems to be doing alright, but the second is still shivering. “Are you still cold?” I ask.

The girl looks up at me, eyes wide. They look just like Frank’s. She nods and sniffles some more. Shrugging off my jacket, I lean into the back to put it over her. She snuggles into the fabric and closes her eyes.

The heat fills the car quickly, the motor of the old car protesting loudly. Almost loud enough to drown out the sounds coming from outside the car. Frank is standing a few feet away from the woman, like he doesn’t want to be too close. “What the hell were you thinking!?” He demands, throwing up his arms. I can’t see his face, but he looks pissed just by the stance he takes up. “They’re sick, Jamia. And you have them standing outside in the cold waiting for me? They should be inside, in bed, not waiting in the fucking driveway when it’s twenty degrees out here!”

Jamia scoffs, looking annoyed and careless. “Jimmy called, I have to go into work. I can’t watch them right now--”

Frank shakes his head, laughing. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You can  _never_ watch them. You never spend time with them. Have you ever wondered why they call my house home and you’re just “ _Mommy’s house_ ”?”

The woman rolls her eyes again. “Look, if you’re just going to bitch at me for my parenting skills, you can go to hell, okay? I have to work.”

“Are Mommy and Daddy yelling again?” The small voice pulls my attention to the backseat where the first twin is frowning. Her voice is scratchy and quiet, either with sickness or sadness, I can’t tell.

“Umm…” I rack my brain for anything to say. I’m not good with kids, I don’t know any kids!  _HOW DO I ACT AROUND KIDS?_  I swallow hard and shift in the seat more, turning to face her. “Daddy’s just telling Mommy bye.” I try to force a reassuring smile and probably scare her with my grimace.

Her forehead crinkles a little in concentration. “He said bye-bye last time,” The little girl says. “And then we got two houses. I like Daddy’s house better.”

A sad smiles settles on my lips and I nod, not really sure what else to say, but it doesn’t matter because the car door swings open and Frank returns. I hear screeching tires and turn in time to see Jamia’s car peeling out of the driveway. Frank falls back in the seat, slamming the door probably harder than necessary and taking a deep breath. He then turns to the twins and his anger melts away. “Are you feeling okay, Cherry?” He wonders.

The girl nods. Oh, okay. I was talking to Cherry. Good to know. “We go home now?”

Frank smiles. “Yeah, we’re gonna go home now.”

By the time we arrive back at Frank’s house, both girls are asleep in their carseats. When Frank opens the back door to retrieve them, he notices the jacket for the first time. He holds it up and tilts his head to one side in question. Taking the jacket from his grasp, I sling it over one arm. “She was cold,” I explain with a small shrug. Did I do something wrong…?

But Frank just smiles again and says, “Thanks.”

I shrug once more and watch as he unhooks the belt, taking Lily out of the car. “Can you take her while I get Cherry?”

In that second, I panic. Twenty minutes ago, I had never even spoken to a small child and now he was asking me to carry one? What if I drop her? What if I accidentally trip and end up crushing her under my own weight? What the hell was Frank thinking? I should not be trusted with a goldfish, let alone an actual human child. Frank seems to see all of this play across my face and he smiles reassuringly. “You’re not going to break her,” He promises. “It’s just inside.”

So I swallow down my fear and let Frank pass the girl into my arms. Her arms are limp, though they immediately go around my shoulders. Her head rests on my left shoulder, face nestling into the crook of my neck. There’s a small amount of pride as I stand there holding her and when I glance up, Frank’s watching me with a pleased smirk.

When I climb the few stairs to the house, Frank gets ahead of me to unlock the door and push it open. I don’t trust myself to take either hand off the small girl in my arms, too afraid to drop or otherwise fatally injure her by loosening my grip. Frank leads me into the living room, first laying Cherry down on the sofa. He takes Lily from me next, placing her next to her sister. Even in sleep, they latch onto each other and snuggle closer. Finding a blanket on the arm of a recliner, Frank puts it over the girls before turning to me. He silently takes my hand and I follow him to the kitchen.

As the pot begins filling, Frank jumps up on the counter to wait. His hand finds mine again and he twists our fingers together, pulling me over to stand before him. His legs wrap around my waist and he places a gentle kiss to my lips, sighing in content. “Thank you,” He mumbles.

I lean back, quirking an eyebrow. “For what?”

He shrugs, looking bashful. “You’re really awesome with them,” He explains. He looks down, avoiding my eyes and remaining quiet for a long time. “We got divorced about a year ago and I haven’t actually dated since then. My main focus is making sure the girls are safe and happy. I’ve hooked up with a few people, but once they find out I have kids, it’s all bets off. Nobody wants the baggage.”

I shake my head quickly, frowning. “They’re not baggage,” I say. “Baggage is clothing and shitty comic books that no one reads. They’re kids.”

Frank looks up at me, his eyes crinkling in concentration as he scrutinizes me. “You should be freaked out by that,” He replies. “You’re seventeen. You should be terrified by the fact that I have kids.”

“And you should be terrified by the fact that I’m only seventeen,” I retort with a playful smirk, nudging his knee. “In all honestly, I am freaked out. I’m not used to being around children and it’s scary, but I see the way you are around them and it’s just…  _adorable_.” I laugh, earning a smile from Frank as well. His eyes meet mine and I trace my fingers down the contour of his jawline. “I like you, Frank. I already told you, whatever we do is up to you. If you want to kick me out and never see me again outside of school, okay. If you want to fuck me on the kitchen table when the twins are at Jamia’s, I’m cool with that too. I’d kind of prefer that option.”

Frank tugs on my hand, pulling me even closer, lowering his lips so they’re almost touching his as he speaks. “And what if I want you to be more than a cheap fuck on my dining furniture? What if I want you around a lot?”

 

I lick my lips, my tongue just barely grazing his with the motion, and grin. “I’d really like that, too.”


	16. Chapter 16

“You really don’t have to do this,” Frank says, but the smirk playing around the corners of his lips seems to say otherwise. He’s enjoying watching me suffer, the sadistic bastard. He swings his legs back and forth in the air as he sits perched on the counter to the right of the stove. “Seriously, Gee.”

I quickly shake my head. “No. They’re sick. They deserve soup and they’re going to get their fucking soup if it kills me.” And it might. So far, I have managed to injure myself on the hot pan twice and the soup is sticking to the bottom. I keep stirring diligently, cursing under my breath when the noodles stick again. After a moment, I drop the spoon on the counter next to Frank and cross my arms. “I give up. I suck at making soup.”

“It’s condensed soup from a can,” Frank chuckles. “How the hell do you screw this up?” Still, he reaches over and turns the heat on the stove down, grabbing the spoon and working it slowly through the alphabet soup. Frank had found it in the cabinets a few minutes ago after I complained about the twins being sick and soupless. He then sat back and giggled as I screwed it up.

When he’s satisfied with the soup, he places the spoon back on the counter and smirks at me. I settle with frowning and narrowing my eyes in his direction. He smiles sweetly and reaches out to take my hand. “Thank you for making my kids soup. Even if you suck at it.”

I stick out my tongue, but allow myself to be pulled in for a kiss. Not even a minute later, the sound of coughing pulls us apart and Frank’s attention is dragged to the girl wandering into the kitchen. She wipes at her eyes, letting another cough escape, followed shortly by a sniffle. Frank jumps down from the counter to kneel on the floor, becoming eye level with the twin. Brushing some blonde hair from where it falls in her face, he presses the back of his hand to her forehead.

“You’re burning up,” He mumbles, a frown creasing his face. “Did Mommy give you any medicine?”

The girl sniffles again and shakes her head.

Frank doesn’t look pleased as he stands again. “Cherry, this is Daddy’s new friend Gerard. Can you say hi?”

The small girl looks up at me and waves. “Hi Gerrr... Gerraa…” She trails off, stuttering a little.

I chuckle. “You can call me Gee,” I say. “I know Gerard is kind of a hard name.”

A hint of a smile graces the girls pale lips and she tries again. “Hi, Gee.”

Frank smiles, too. “Gee made you and Lily some soup. I’m gonna go get you some medicine and then you can have some, okay? Can you go see if Lily is awake?”

Cherry nods and retreats back to the living room. A few minutes later, I’m scooping out two tiny bowls of alphabet soup while Frank is pouring two teaspoons of medicine. When I put them down on the table, each girl quietly mumbling a stuffy “thanks” before digging in, Frank takes me by the arm and leads me into the living room. “I figured they would sleep longer,” He says apologetically. “I know this isn’t really what either of us expected when we ditched school.”

“It’s fine,” I smile. He doesn’t really look convinced, so I twist my fingers through his, leaning against the wall and tugging him closer, mere inches away. “I think it’s awesome what you do for them. They’re lucky to have you.”

Frank smiles and closes the small distance between us for only a second. When he leans away, he looks pleased. “I should actually head home,” I say reluctantly. “My brother’s probably wondering where I am.”

Frank follows me to the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?” It sounds like both a question and a request, so I settle with a simple grin and nod.

I turn to leave, but stop short. “Wait. I really need to ask you for something first.” Frank waits, looking confused when I pull my cellphone free from my back pocket and hand it to him. “Give me your number so I can actually call you, okay?”

•••

It turns out that exchanging numbers was actually a good thing, because the next day, Frank isn’t at school. After much contemplation, I send him a text during lunch asking if everything’s okay. By the time school ends and I still haven’t recieved a reply, I start to worry. I speed-walk the entire way home and then pace the length of my bedroom floor for nearly thirty minutes, imagining the absolute worst. What if the twins got sicker? What if something happened and they were taken to the hospital? Wouldn’t Frank at least text me back to let me know? I decide rather easily that I’m going to drive myself crazy thinking of the worst scenarios and I need to know for sure. But when I take the first step outside the house, I hesitate again. What if something just came up and Frank’s too busy to reply? What if he lost his phone? Maybe I got the number wrong…

I end up circling the block six times before I get the courage to just go up to his house and knock. For a long time, there’s no response and I think that maybe the house is empty, but after a minute, the door swings open and I come face to face with Frank. His nose is red, his eyes puffy and tired. He looks like absolute shit and I just want to pick him up and whisk him away and feed him soup.

He sniffles a little, blinking a few times and frowning. “Good news,” He mumbles, his voice seeming thick and rougher than usual. “The twins are feeling better and went to school today. We have the house to ourselves.” He opens the door wider and allows me inside. He pulls the blanket hanging around his shoulders closer, looking even tinier lost in the midst of the fabric. “Bad news, I have the shittiest immune system known to man and now feel close to death. You want some coffee?”

“Depends,” I smirk. “Are you gonna sneeze in it?”

Frank narrows his eyes and I stifle another chuckle. “Fine, bitch,” He wipes furiously at his red nose. “Don’t have coffee. If I die, you’re gonna feel really guilty for not accepting my offer.”

“Somehow, I think you’re going to survive.” I follow Frank into the living room, watching as he falls back onto the sofa. He curls up on one end, disappearing in the tangle of blankets for a moment before his head reemerges and he motions to the cushion beside him. As soon as I sit, Frank curls into my side, like an automatic reaction. My arm around his shoulders, his own draped across my stomach, his head on my shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be here,” He decides, though he doesn’t look like he’s moving anytime soon. I don’t argue. “What if you get sick, too?”

I wave a dismissive hand. “I’m practically invincible.”

Frank chuckles, the action cut short when a yawn escapes instead. He snuggles closer into my chest. “I’m hugging a student,” He mumbles so quietly it’s almost as if he’s talking to himself. In his sick, medicated haze, he seems to be realizing this in awe. “I can go to jail if anybody sees this.”

“Technically, we’re not doing anything wrong,” I point out. It’s true he could get in trouble, but hugging isn’t illegal.

“I fucked you,” He states bluntly. “I fucked a student.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” I shrug, running a few fingers through his tangled hair. “I wasn’t your student at the time.”

Frank shifts his weight suddenly, sitting up on his knees and turning to face me. “And what if I were to fuck you again right now?” He wonders. His voice would probably be seductive, if not for the phlegm that clogs his throat, making the words stuffy. “What if I just pushed you back on the couch and had my way with you?”

He leans closer at his last words, grinning and kissing me. I laugh softly and kiss him back for only a moment before shaking my head. “As tempting as that sounds, Frankie, you need sleep. How much medicine did you take?”

Frank looks around the room and shrugs. “Just some NyQuil,” He replies with another yawn. I roll my eyes and push him back more forcefully this time. He pouts slightly, but abides and lays back on the sofa. I tuck the blanket in around him before kissing his lips once more. His eyes are already starting to close. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He makes a vague sound of recognition but nothing more. He’s already out. Smirking down at him, I brush some hair behind his ear and place a kiss to his forehead, then stand and leave the house.


	17. Chapter 17

This is not an update. This is much more important.

Dear wonderful Minions.

‘Tis your leader, MyChemicalRachel, here to tell you all a story. So sit down, shut up, and listen closely because I am going to say this only once.

Once upon a time, there lived a fangirl. We all know how this story goes, right? Normal girl discovers My Chemical Romance, and her life was never the same; It was filled with fanfiction and late nights crying over men who are in their thirties. Well, let’s talk about something else this girl encounters, shall we? This thing is called _**copyright infringement.**_

As a lot of you know, I post my stories on three sites; Wattpad, Archiveofourown, and mychemicalromancefanfiction. I originally only posted on Wattpad, then a friend told me about mcrfanfic. From there, I found Ao3. I have a variety of followers on each site who leave me wonderful comments and I’ve never thought about deleting any of my accounts until now. As of now, I am seriously contemplating deleting both my Ao3 and mcrfanfic accounts, only leaving my Wattpad active and I might even stop posting on there.

Before I go any further, let me say this to any person who has ever been a fan of anything; It is okay to be a fan. It is okay to show affection for the thing/person you like. It is okay to write about said person/thing or to make fanart about them or to just tell them how much you like what they do. However, it is _**NOT** _ okay to re-post any of this person’s work anywhere without their direct consent. This is called copyright infringement because it infringes on their rights of the author to create and distribute as they see fit. It is also really slimy to do so because posting on sites such as the aforementioned takes a lot of trust. I trust you guys when I upload something for you to read and enjoy and criticize, and I’m flattered that you love them so much as to want to share them with the world, but in the end, that is MY choice and mine alone. If you repost without my approval, you are betraying my trust.

Recently, I was informed that someone was translating and posting two of my stories (My Bloody Romance and You Leave Me Breathless) on another site. Though I was stated as the author and given credit, it pissed me off. Now I don’t want to draw attention to this person-- you probably didn’t think it was a problem and I don’t hold any grudges on you, as long as you remove the stories as I asked you to-- I want to make a warning to anyone else to is tempted to do something like this; If I ever find out that you are reposting any of my works without my permission, whether I am credited or not, **_I will report you for copyright infringement and plagiarism._**

 _Why?_ you ask. _I’m still giving you credit. It’s not like I’m stealing your story._

Well, it’s simple; **_You did not ask for my permission._** It’s very seldom that I give people permission to translate and post my stories, but the least you could do is fucking ask. It is my story and, as the author and the holder of the copyright, I have the final choice. If you rob me of that choice, I am not taking it lightly.

I’m posting this now, on all three sites, to tell you that You Leave Me Breathless is officially on hold until I decide I can trust you again with updates. It’s not everyone, the majority of my fans have been nothing but amazing, and I’m sorry that it has to be like this. Like I mentioned before, I may end up deleting my Ao3 and mcrfanfic accounts and post only on Wattpad, setting everything to private so only fans can read my work. I haven’t decided yet, but I will let you guys know soon.

As a side note, I was working on a special Halloween Frerard one shot for you all about clowns and blowjobs, but that is going on hold as of now, too.

**-MyChemicalRachel <3**


	18. Chapter 18

I don’t hear from Frank again until Friday night. It’s nearing midnight when my phone buzzes, vibrating the desk in front of me and alerting me to a new message. I glance over at the screen, seeing Frank’s name lighting it up, and instantly drop my pencil, my drawing suddenly forgotten and replaced with thoughts of him.

‘ ** _Hey Gee. You still up?_** ’ the message reads.

I ignore the sudden, inexplicable acceleration of my heart and reply quickly. ‘ _ **I’m always awake. Sleeping’s not really my style, ruins the whole vampire image I’ve got going on.**_ ’

As soon as the message is sent, I regret it. Not for the sass because that was on point, but I worry that maybe I sent it too soon. I should have waited a few minutes to reply-- Now it’s going to seem like I’ve been waiting by the phone for him to text me. I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I?

But before I even have time to fret, the phone is going off again. ‘ _ **The vampire image works for you, all pale skin and nice ass. The girls are gone for the weekend. Can you come over? ;)**_ ’

Of course, my first instinct is to type out a simple “ _hell yes_ ” and press send, but before I can hit the button, I have second thoughts. Frank’s been sick. The last time I saw him, he was drugged up on cold medicine and wrapped up like a blanket burrito. So I slowly backspace my response and frown slightly, typing out a new one. ‘ _ **Does this mean you’re feeling better? As much as I want to see you, you should probably be un-sick first. I should make you soup.**_ ’

The frown pulls at my lips until the phone buzzes again in my hand with Frank’s reply. ‘ ** _I’m un-sick and I’m horny. So am I dealing with this little problem myself or are you coming over?_** ’

I feel the frown slip from my face, replaced instantly with a grin and I retype my previous response. ‘ _ **Hell yes.**_ ’

After throwing on a pair of semi-clean jeans and a new shirt, I’m practically running down the stairs. I don’t stop to think about the fact that it’s almost midnight and my parents are going to flip shit if they wake up in the morning and realize I snuck out; The only think flitting through my mind is Frank.

The cold air outside is bitter and I immediately cringe against myself, letting out a breath that instantly looks like smoke twisting and swirling under the dull glow of the streetlights. The walk is short, but I’m nearly freezing when I ball my hand into a fist and, before I have a chance to actually knock, Frank’s front door swings open. The other man is standing there in the entryway looking as gorgeous as ever in fitting black jeans and a loose Iron Maiden Tshirt. A sideways smirk twists his lips and he juts out a single hip, his hazel eyes glimmering lustfully in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating to be watched in that way, like he’s scrutinizing me intensely. He looks pleased with what he sees.

I can tell almost instantly that he wasn’t kidding about being horny. He reaches forward, his hand fisting in the front of my jacket and pulling me into the house, pushing the door shut behind me and pressing me back against it. Frank’s lips meet mine within seconds and I allow my hands to tangle in his hair in an almost natural instinct. His hips grind forward into mine and I can feel that he’s already hard. “I was thinking about you,” He admits in a breathless voice, his lips still moving against mine. “About the way you looked the first time we had sex. Fuck Gerard, I want to see you like that again. I want you begging for more. I want to hear you moaning my name.”

I comply easily with his wishes, letting out a low and somewhat embarrassing moan, his name falling off of the tip of my tongue when his hands trail down the front of my shirt to the waistband of my jeans. A few fingers slip a little lower, teasing as they brush gently across my skin, sending chills all through me. Frank’s kisses slow, his movements becoming deliberate. “I want you to know how you make me feel,” He says. His voice seems slower, too, rugged and heavy, like he’s admitting some big secret to me. He’s laying everything out. “I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but you drive me crazy. You’re smart, funny. You’re not scared away by my kids. You’re…  _Amazing_. And you drive me insane, just by being there, whether we’re kissing or standing twenty feet away in a classroom full of clueless people. It’s like you somehow make everything stop and I’m just left--”

“Breathless?” I interject. I pull away slightly and smile down at him, swallowing hard and brushing some hair behind his ear with a shaking hand.

Frank smiles, too, nodding. “Yeah. Exactly.”

I can hear the unspoken words hanging in the air between us, the feeling that we’re describing but too terrified to say aloud. I bite down on my lip, willing him to say it first. But his eyes, searching mine, show it all.

It feels like the right time to say it, so simple to admit the inevitable. “ _I love you_ ,” I could say. Simple. Easy. But my throat feels swollen and I can’t say anything at all because maybe it’s not love yet. Whatever Frank and I have, it’s dangerous and addicting and maybe it’s not real love, but what’s even more frightening is the possibility that it could be.

So, without words, I wrap my arms around Frank’s neck and pull him back to me. Our lips collide, sending sparks everywhere, rocketing through my limbs and tingling when my tongue touches his. He moans again, that familiar desperation making an appearance again in his movements when he tugs on my jacket, throwing it to the floor and grabbing a fistful of my Tshirt once more. He pulls me forward this time, tripping over my jacket, but managing to angle us toward the stairs. Along the way, we lose both of our shirts and, by the time we actually reach Frank’s bedroom, my jeans are hanging around my thighs, Frank’s hand pushed into my boxers and making my knees weak as he strokes down my length. Within only moments, my back is hitting the mattress. The scent of Frank surrounds me, hanging in the air and clinging to the sheets. I breathe him in as he climbs atop my waist.

The heated kisses continue, messy and passionate and with an edge of desperation that feels so different from that first night. It’s no longer about a quick fuck with a hot guy-- Now, it’s like a yearning to feel Frank, an insatiable desire to have him in every single way possible, near and around and inside of me.

With the last thought, I find myself gasping into the kiss. His lips trail down my jaw to my neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot on my collarbone to suck and nip at. His teeth and tongue pressing against my skin sends shivers resonating through me, goosebumps arising while another moan surges forward. I feel him all over me, his lips on my neck, his hands roaming down my chest and pushing my jeans off, followed shortly by the thin fabric of my boxers, leaving me completely exposed and writhing beneath Frank. He somehow positions himself between my legs, his clothing still on from the waist down, and the denim of his jeans rubs somewhat painfully against my erection, but the pain brings with it waves of pleasure, too, and I find my nails digging into his shoulder blades, dragging him closer. Frank’s breathing hitches when I wrap my legs around him, grinding up against him.

I see him as he reaches for the zipper of his own jeans, but some part of me reacts and before I realize what I’m doing, I flip our bodies over. Frank’s back hits the mattress and I straddle his thighs, smirking down at him and lowering my lips to his. I don’t know where the sudden aggression comes from, but I pin both of Frank’s arms above his head, enjoying the way his wrists twist between my fingers, and deepen the kiss. One hand trails down his chest, the ink adorning the flawless skin smoothly, until I reach the button of his jeans, which I pop open easily. It doesn’t take long to get the clothing off, between his anxious writhing and my own aching erection, and then I’m grinding down against him. The friction between us is almost physical, sparking and igniting some flame that heats us both inside and out, tying us together as one entity as we move together with panting breaths.

I barely notice where Frank’s hands are until I feel the pressure of him squeezing my ass. I let out a low moan and he grins into the kiss. “You still want to bottom?” He wonders in a husky voice.

My mouth feels dry with the question and I hesitate. I feel torn. Part of me wants to scream yes and command he fuck me until I can’t see straight, but part of me is still terrified. I’ve never done this and, as much as I want my first time to be with Frank, I’m scared I’ll somehow disappoint him.

Frank seems to sense my hesitation and one hand cups my jaw gently. “You don’t have to,” He smiles. “Gee, you never have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” I argue weakly. My voice sounds pathetic to even my own ears and I avert my gaze. “I’m just not sure if I want to right now.”

Frank’s smile doesn’t falter as he leans in to kiss me again. “Then we won’t. Gerard, I want you to be completely, one-hundred percent sure.”

I nod slowly and allow myself to melt into the kiss. When Frank pulls away, it’s to retrieve a condom and lubricant from the bedside drawer, both of which he hands to me. I smirk again and lay Frank back down on the mattress, positioning myself between his legs and kissing the insides of his thighs. I mumble softly as I do so. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Frankie.”

I glance up at him to see him watching me with wide eyes, red tinting his cheeks. I can’t be sure if it’s a blush or the simple heat of what we’re doing, but I smile regardless and lower my mouth to the very tip of his member. I watch as his head falls back onto the pillows, a heavy breath leaving his chest in the form of a strangled moan. As if by instinct, a single tattooed hand tangles in my hair, twisting and pulling, while I slick up a few fingers and place them at his entrance. He gasps again when I push the first one in, bucking his hips and practically screaming my name. I can’t deny the chills that race up my spine when he does that, and I yearn to hear that noise again. I push in another finger, curling them and pulling halfway out before repeating the motion.

“Fucking hell, Gerard--” Frank stutters in uneven breaths, his voice practically begging. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m coming like this.”

I grin and pull away completely. I hear Frank’s small whimper of protest, but he watches me with pleading hazel eyes, mesmerized by my movements as I slide the condom on and add some more lube. His lips are parted slightly, red and swollen and glistening with a mix of his spit and my own. I lean in to capture another kiss, choosing that moment to begin pressing into Frank. He groans when I do so, but the uncomfortable sound quickly melts into a drawn out moan, wordless noises that seem to beg for more. His fingers press into my back, drawing me closer as I thrust forward into him. Eventually the kisses become sloppy, all panting breaths and tongue, before we break apart altogether. I lean back far enough to watch Frank, who seems to be returning the half-lidded gaze with one of his own. A look of pure ecstasy, unadulterated pleasure and wanton need masking his features with a haze of desire. The fact that he’s looking at me like that seems almost too much, that tantalizing gaze turned on me of all people, and I let his name slip past my tongue when I finally feel the orgasm rock my body. It’s only just after that Frank releases as well, coming hard between our bodies and pulling me back in for one final, messy kiss.

When I pull the condom off, tying it and tossing it in the bin near the dresser, I lay back on the bed to face Frank. He has an air of content about him, watching me with a small smile in place on his cupid bow lips. Those stupid freaking perfect lips that I wish I could just kiss forever. But before I have the chance to, Frank is reaching out to wrap both of his arms around me, pulling me down lower in the bed and curling into my side. He swings a leg over one of my own, twisting our ankles together while his fingers lace through mine. I brush a few fingers through his hair, trailing down his jaw to his lips.

“Will you stay the night?” He wonders. His voice is low, suddenly exhausted with an undertone of hopeful. And it’s then that I decide that I don’t care anymore-- I don’t care if my parents are going to worry or wonder where I went, I don’t care if Frank is my teacher, I don’t care if this is wrong or illegal. All I care about is that Frank is here and, instead of kicking me out like the last time we had sex, he’s asking me to stay with him because he doesn’t care either. So I simply nod with another smile and lean into his touch.

And maybe this feeling isn’t real, the lack of air he makes me feel or the swelling of my chest when he’s near. Maybe it’s not love. But it sure feels pretty damn close.


	19. Chapter 19

There’s a pressure on my shoulder that makes me hesitate as soon as I wake up, unsure exactly what to do and what the hell is weighing me down. But when the weight shifts and I hear a near silent mumble, everything seems to come back to me from the night before. The aching in my lower back, the lingering taste of him on my tongue, the thrill pulsing through my veins at just the memory, and I open my eyes to make sure it’s real. With a minute smile pulling at the corners of my lips, I see it was definitely more than a dream; Frank’s still asleep at my side, his legs tangled around mine, a single arm draped across my chest, his fingers flexing unconsciously and dragging across my flesh. I run a few fingers through his messy hair, the black falling around his face, down his jaw, across his lips. Those fucking lips…

Frank mumbles sleepily, snuggling closer and nuzzling his face into my neck. And only a moment later, he’s fully awake, his lips attaching to my skin and trailing in a lazy morning kiss down to my collarbone. I tilt my head back onto the pillow to give him more access, but Frank stops me, his hands on either side of my face as he pulls me closer, his lips connecting with my own. I melt into the kiss, leaning into him and moaning softly into his mouth.

Slow, passion-filled kisses continue for a few long minutes, his hands trailing over my chest and back while mine tangle in his hair, tugging on a few strands and eliciting breathy pants and whimpers from the back of his throat. It doesn’t go any farther than that, making out, naked and sweaty and covered with the thin sheets, but it’s more than enough for me. It’s like an insatiable hunger to have Frank, to have his touch or his kiss and those few breathless moments, and every minute I spend with him adds to the addiction; I only want more.

When he pulls away, he’s smiling. “I think I could get used to waking up this way,” He says.

I smirk and kiss him once more. “Then we need to have sleepovers more often. I’ll even let you braid my hair next time.”

Frank laughs and sits up, stretching his arms above his head. I hear a few joints pop and he rolls his neck, but when he notices me watching, his movements slow. I shift closer on the bed, reaching out a hand to trace a few of the stained bits of skin. He shivers under my touch and I can’t deny the small amount of pride I feel, being able to make him wriggle, the way I can make his breath stop and his heart stutter. The same way he makes me feel.

We freeze like that for a long moment, my hand rested flat on his stomach, our eyes locked in a gaze that says everything I’m too scared to admit out loud. And then Frank’s lips stretch into a grin and he reaches out to lace his fingers through mine. “Hungry?”

I reply with a nod and allow myself to be pulled up out of the bed. “Please tell me you have coffee.”

Frank throws me a pair of pajama pants, only a fraction of an inch too short when I pull them on, and he does the same. “I always have coffee.”

Downstairs, I’m almost shocked by the silence of the house. Back at my own home, it’s always alive with the bustle of my parents getting their morning caffeine fix before scurrying off to work, and my brother scavenging the cabinets for food, sometimes joined by Ray or one of his other friends. Here, without the twins at least, it’s quiet. Deathly so. The stillness in the air makes me shiver, regretting not grabbing a Tshirt, until Frank’s arms wrap around my waist from behind. His lips meet my shoulder blade, planting soft kisses across the flesh and warming me up in an instant. He’s like my own personal heater.

“You’re hot,” I inform him, twisting my fingers through his, and then realize my own words. “Well, in more than one sense. Like, hot like an oven, but also hot like I want to put my dick in your butt again.”

Frank chuckles and I feel him deliberately grind his hips forward into me, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “As tempting as that offer sounds, my kids eat on this table. Though I have no objection to the bed.” His hands trail lower, fingering the waistband of my pants-- Technically his pants, but I’m wearing them, so right now they’re mine. “But first, I want caffeine. Then perhaps I can defile you on the kitchen table.”

Then, with a smug smile, he pulls away and moves to the coffee pot on the counter, flicking on the switch and pulling out a blue canister. “What happened to ‘ _my kids eat on that table_ ’?” I wonder, hopping onto the counter next to the coffee.

Frank grins, shrugging and focusing on scooping out the grounds. “We can disinfect.”

 

In the end, we don’t have sex on the kitchen table. We do however agree on a shower and stumble into the bathroom together. I can taste the bitter black coffee on his tongue as it presses against mine, mingling with the addicting smell of cigarettes, the pure desire of his kisses. His hands are all over me and I can’t seem to grab enough of him, pulling him closer and tugging with demand at his pajama pants. He complies easily and within moments, we’re both naked again.

It’s only when we’re in the shower, the heat of the water beating down on us, that it occurs to me we can’t have sex here. “Condom,” I pant into his open mouth. My hand around Frank’s growing length doesn’t falter in pace, but my comment makes him pull away and curse under his breath. I’ve decided I like the sound of him saying bad words.

But as quickly as the word left my mouth, I’m shaking my head again. “Fuck it,” I decide. I kiss him again, a condom suddenly the last thing on my mind. I have him this close to me, I’m not letting him go, even if it’s just long enough to go back to the bedroom to grab protection.

Frank makes a noise of protest and pushes gently on my chest. “We can’t,” He says, his voice saddened by the fact that’s heavy between us. “I’m sorry, Gee. We can’t have sex without a condom.”

My mouth pulls up at one corner and I cock an eyebrow. “Who said anything about sex?” I wonder before dropping to my knees. It’s not comfortable, the hard tile of the shower floor slick with water under me, causing me to slide slightly and grasp Frank’s legs for balance. But the sight at eye level is enough to make my mouth open, my mind erasing of the water running into my eyes and the uncomfortable hardness of the floor-- All I’m focused on is Frank, taking him deeper into my mouth and pushing the limits to see how far down my throat I can stand.

It turns out that my gag reflex is pretty much non-existent, for which I’m thankful because Frank can’t seem to control the stuttering of his own hips as he thrusts forward into my mouth. When he comes, it’s like a tidal wave of grossness, but I don’t mind so much. I spit most of it out, but some trickles down my chin, my parted red lips, and I’m sure I must be quite the sight for Frank as he instantly drops to his knees in front of me, crashing into me with a kiss. I don’t doubt that he can taste himself on my lips, but he doesn’t seem to care, his tongue diving into my mouth. I shiver, despite the heat, when I feel his hand wrapping around my shaft. I let loose a strangled moan, the sound instantly lost down Frank’s throat.

It doesn’t take long before I’m panting, begging in half-sentences, and then moaning Frank’s name as the orgasm rocks my body. And it surprises me slightly that Frank’s groaning right along with me, his half-lidded gaze meeting my own, and he breaks down the last wall left between us as a student and a teacher.

“Fucking love you, Gerard.”

But I don’t have the chance to reply as Frank is kissing me again, hard and defiant, like he needs to prove this to both of us, that his words are true. And I believe him and even though I can’t say it back, I pull him closer, willing him with my actions to understand.

_Fucking love you too, Frank._


	20. Chapter 20

I pull my jeans on, taking my sweet time buckling the belt. I catch Frank’s gaze from where he’s perched on the center of the bed, looking euphoric and unashamed to be caught staring as I dress. I return the smirk and move forward to kiss him, only barely reaching his lips when I feel the phone in my pants buzz with life. I sigh heavily and pull it free. It’s a new text from my brother and I realize with distaste that it’s just one of many. I quickly scroll through the messages, only skimming most as they generally say the same thing;  _“_ _Where the hell are you?”_

I frown and meet Frank’s eyes again, shoving the cell back into my pocket. He seems to read the messages clear enough on my face and climbs to his knees, kissing me one last time. “Can I see you tomorrow?” I ask, biting down on my lip.

But Frank shakes his head sadly. “Probably not. I have a shit ton of papers to grade and I know if you’re here, I am never getting any work done. And I have to pick the girls up tomorrow night.”

I nod and realize I should probably do some of my own homework. “Then I’ll see you Monday?”

Frank returns the gesture and smiles. “Definitely.”

After retrieving my shirt and jacket, I show myself out. Frank probably would have walked me to the door, but he was still naked, which I honestly didn’t mind, but the neighbors most likely would have disliked it. Outside, the early December air seems to hit me like a fist. The sun sinks low in the sky, mostly hidden by the gray clouds that seem like an ever-hanging noose in the winter sky. Yet somehow the vapid gray doesn’t seem so dull, the snow collecting on the ground doesn’t seem so drab. Instead, I find myself focusing on the way the small amount of sun peeking through casts a yellow glow on everything, making the early evening seem just a little bit brighter.

Doesn’t do anything to make it warmer, though, and I relish in the feeling of heat as soon as I’m inside my own house. It’s quiet for about two seconds after the door is shut behind me before Mikey is racing down the stairs, nearly tripping on the rug at the bottom, and skittering into the living room.

“Where the hell have you been!?” He demands, sounding like an overprotective parent all of a sudden. “You could have died and I wouldn’t have even known!”

I roll my eyes at his overdramatic presence and shrug off my coat, dropping it onto the floor and making my way into the kitchen. I rummage through the cabinets until I find a few hot cocoa packets and empty one into a mug. Mikey follows me, waiting for an answer like a vulture circling it’s prey. I sigh and dump water in on top of the powder, avoiding his gaze. “Look, I’m not dead. I was just out with a friend.”

“A friend that left hickeys on your neck?” Mikey’s question is so casual, I almost don’t hear the accusatory tone underneath.

Honestly, I hadn’t looked in the mirror long enough to see the love-bites, but now I feel them prickling my skin and raise a hand to cover them, turning to glare at my brother. “Why is it your business?” I demand.

“Because--” He retorts easily and I can tell he’s been thinking about this. “I covered for your ass when Mom and Dad asked where you were this morning.”

“And what did you tell them?” I ask, shoving my mug into the microwave and pressing a few buttons.

Mikey returns with a shrug. “That you went to Bob’s house for the night.” There’s a small pause and I can feel his eyes on my back but I keep watching the mug moving around in circles. Then he demands, “Were you really with Bob?”

I sigh heavily and spin around, throwing up both hands. “Fucking hell, Mikey! I have a life outside of Bob, you know. It may come as a shock, but he’s not my only friend. Even more of a shock;  _I’m not fucking Bob!_ ”

Mikey looks wounded, taken back slightly, and hesitant. His voice is defeated when he finally speaks again. “I’m just worried about you, Gee,” He admits. “I mean, maybe we’re not as close as we should be, but we used to tell each other everything. I don’t even know what you do anymore because you don’t tell me anything. Assuming you were with Bob is my only guess.” He takes a breath and folds his arms across his chest with another minute shrug. “So if you weren’t with Bob, who were you with?”

My mouth feels dry and my head is pounding. I know he’s right and it kills me because I don’t want to lie to him, but this isn’t just my secret to tell. My relationship with Frank is still very much illegal and, though I don’t think Mikey would actually tell anyone on purpose, I don’t want to take the chance of him letting it slip to the wrong person.

Still, Mikey is a year younger than me. He doesn’t have Frank as a teacher. There’s a possibility he wouldn’t even recognize him if he were to see him and he most certainly won’t be suspicious of just a name. So I take a deep breath and bite down on my lip. “I have a boyfriend,” I admit and hurry on before Mikey can interrupt. “And no, it’s not Bob. His name is Frank.”

Mikey’s eyes light up and he immediately pulls me into a tight hug-- I’m momentarily surprised he has this much strength. “I’m so fucking glad you’re not doing drugs!”

I pull back and both of my eyebrows shoot up. “Why the hell would you think I’m doing drugs?”

Mikey waves it off as nothing, as if he didn’t just indirectly accuse me of being an addict. “You were keeping secrets, disappearing in the middle of the night. I watch way too much TV so I assumed it was either drugs or you were living a double life as some masked vigilante. So when do I get to meet this boyfriend of yours?”

There’s that dry mouth feeling again. I swallow hard and feign nonchalance. Suddenly I wish he thought I was on drugs again. “I don’t know,” I lie. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s that serious between us, you know.”

Mikey just rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, Gerard. It’s me, not Mom. Just let me meet the fucker and make sure he’s good enough for my big brother.” He beams and even though I know it’s a stupid idea, I can’t say no to him.

“Give me until Christmas,” I tell him.

Mikey is reluctant at first, but eventually nods with a sigh. “Fine,” He accepts. “I want to meet him on Christmas.” He motions behind me to the still running microwave and frowns. “That hot chocolate has been in for twelve minutes already, you should probably take it out,” He says, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

But I can’t even focus on the overly hot beverage right now, hitting the end button and blowing out a puff of air, I begin wondering how the hell I am supposed to get out of this.


	21. Chapter 21

The hallways are nearly empty this early in the morning. There are a few teachers passing by in a half-asleep or hungover haze, staggering to their respective classes with a coffee in hand. A couple zero-period students wander the halls, talking amongst themselves to fill the last few minutes before everyone else arrives. I only have about ten minutes before the halls start filling up.

Frank’s classroom door is open when I reach it and, glancing quickly around the hall, I slip into the room. He’s seated behind the large wooden desk, his head down, hair falling forward to cover his eyes. Pushing the door closed behind me, the sound of the latch makes him look up. As soon as he sees me, his work is forgotten and he grins.

“You’re here early,” He states, but he doesn’t sound displeased. He stands up and moves around the desk to sit on the edge. His legs swing in the air, like a beacon beckoning me forward. I comply, moving to stand in front of him. I hold out one of the Styrofoam cups in my grasp, offering it to Frank but pulling it only just out of his reach when he stretches a hand forward. I smirk instead, leaning closer and kissing him. I know it’s a risk, kissing him at school, but it sends an exhilarating shock through me. It lasts only a few seconds before Frank takes the cup from my hand and pulls away, taking a drink. His sideways smirk instantly turns to a look of disgust and he chokes on the beverage. “What the hell is that?”

“Tea,” I reply with a chuckle, biting my lip to refrain from grinning. “You’ve been sick. Tea is good for sick people.” I deliberately take a sip of my own scorching coffee, meeting Frank’s eyes over the brim of the Styrofoam. He frowns, jutting out his bottom lip in an adorable pout. Rolling my eyes, I hand the cup to him. Frank grins and takes it eagerly from my grasp, gulping down a burning mouthful.

“So…” I shift, scuffing my Converse on the tile floor and biting on my lip nervously. There was no easy way to breach this subject, but I’d been driving myself crazy the rest of the weekend thinking about it. Still, with no idea exactly what to say, I blurt out, “My brother wants to meet you.”

Frank’s face seems to freeze, the smile not falling from his lips, though his eyes widen and, slowly, it seems to sink in. “You told him?” He asks incredulously.

I shake my head fervently. “No, of course not. I mean, kind of. But he… It’s not like he knows  you’re my teacher.” I speak in a low voice, though we’re alone in the room.

Frank seems to visibly relax and nods slowly. “So what  _did_  you tell him?”

I smirk again and twist our fingers together, nudging his knee with my own. “That I have an amazing new boyfriend who I’m absolutely fucking crazy about.”

Frank returns the smile and sighs, but he doesn’t have the chance to reply. A knock at the closed classroom door drags both of our attention in that direction, making us jump apart. Frank quickly moves behind the desk and takes a professional stance, instantly pretending like we weren’t just holding hands two seconds ago, just in time too because the door swings open and a group of students bustle in. A few glance up at Frank, offering a tired “morning Mr. Iero,” not even bothering to acknowledge my presence, and take their seats.

Frank smiles in return with a wave in their general direction. “Morning guys.” He then turns his gaze back to me, fidgeting with my coffee still in his hands. He speaks loud enough to be overheard by anyone choosing to eavesdrop, but not so loud that it draws us any attention. “So like I was saying, just turn in the homework by sixth period. I’ll get it graded and back to you by the end of the day.”

I nod, following his lead, and thank him before exiting the room. Outside the classroom, my heart is thundering against my ribs, beating so hard I think it might get lodged in my throat. But I bite down on my lip and pretend like nothing happened as I make my way to first period.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. Well until English class. In English, Frank passes out a few packets and new books, talking as he walks down each aisle in turn. “We’re going to start reading a very famous piece of literature today, and one of my personal favorites.” When he reaches the front of the class again, he holds one more copy of the book in his hand, smiling as his eyes skim over the students. “ _Frankenstein_.”

A hand goes up near the front of the room, but they don’t wait to be called on, blurting out, “Do we have to? I mean, can we just do the homework based on the movie?”

A few chuckles sound, even Frank looking amused. He shakes his head, but shrugs. “You could,” He allows. The kid who asks high-fives a friend before Frank continues. “But you’ll most likely fail. When the movie was adapted, so much of the original story was changed.” He bites down on his lip before pointing to the kid’s friend. “Justin; In the Frankenstein movie, how does Elizabeth die?”

The boy scoffs arrogantly and I turn in my seat to watch as he leans back in his own. “Frankenstein rips her heart out, then Victor makes her into a monster. Then she kills herself.”

I can’t help the soft laugh that escapes, mostly silent, but Frank hears. He turns his gaze to me. “And Gerard; How does she die in the book?”

“The Creature strangles her,” I reply, casting another glance at Justin is facing forward again and fidgeting in his seat. “Victor doesn’t bring her back at all. He wants to avenge her death and pursues the monster instead.”

Frank looks proud, nodding at me. “Good.” He begins pacing the front of the room, waving the book around as he speaks. I try not to look at his ass and focus on his words. “See how just one scene can change so drastically? Why do you guys think that is? Why would they want to change something so minor as how Elizabeth dies?”

“Point of view,” Someone speaks up from the other side of the room. “They want to make the monster out to be the bad guy, but by having Victor create another creature, he’s a monster, too.”

Frank grins, nodding again. “Very good. In the book, you’ll read about how remorseful Victor Frankenstein is; He regrets making the Creature. He refers to his creation as an abomination. In the movie, you can’t see inside Victor’s head. You can’t know exactly what he’s thinking or feeling. So by tweaking some scenes in the movie, the audience can see how monstrous Frankenstein is.” Frank sits on the edge of his desk, flipping through a few pages in the book. “The packet I gave you has 124 questions--” He pauses and a collective groan goes through the room. “Yeah, yeah. I know. So much work. Whatever,” He waves a hand, making them quiet down. “This week, your assignment is to read the first five chapters and complete questions one through twenty-six. They’re due next Monday.” He gestures again with the book. “Begin.”

Most of the class passes quietly and I try to do my work, I swear I do. But I can’t help glancing up at Frank every now and again. Sometimes, he’s sitting behind the desk silently leafing through his own copy of Frankenstein, but other times I catch his eye and he offers me a small smirk. I lean back in my seat and sigh, flipping the page only to have a small sheet of paper fall out onto my desk. At first, I figure it’s a leftover note from whoever read this book last year, but curiosity gets the best of me and I unfold the paper. Written on the small paper in familiar scrawled handwriting is a note I instantly realize was meant for me to find. It’s short, simple, and it makes my heart pound faster, beating against my ribs painfully.

_Gee,_  
Come by after school?  
xoFrankenstein

I glance up at Frank, my black hair falling forward to cover my eyes, but the smirk on my lips is obvious. I nod only slightly, earning a smile from him too before he turns back to his book and I go back to my work.


	22. Chapter 22

I hear the crash first, dishes banging and dropping and colliding with the hard tile floor, just a moment before Frank’s voice resonates back to me in the living room. “Dammit!” There’s a small pause before he calls back in a hesitant voice. “I mean…  _Darn_  it.”

The twins both giggle and I bite my lip to contain my own smile. I think about going to see if he needs help, but Frank appears in the doorway leading to the kitchen looking distressed. “So um…. Pizza sound okay for dinner?”

The girls, one on each side of me on the sofa, nod in unison. The one to my left-- Cherry, I think-- begins bouncing up and down on the cushion and points a finger to the television, now playing the end credits of some Barney show. “Daddy, we watch Frozen?”

Frank shakes his head and gets the remote, turning the TV off. “Not right now, Cher. Why don’t you and Lily go play with your toys until dinner, okay?”

Cherry pouts, crossing her arms stiffly against her chest, but Lily stands up and takes her sisters hand. Together they disappear up the stairs. I follow Frank back into the kitchen, noting the scattered pans strewn across the tiled floor, as well as a couple cans rolling in various directions. “I’m not the only one who sucks at making soup,” I grumble, picking up a can and placing it back into the cabinet.

After ordering food and making the kitchen presentable again, Frank sits on the counter and pulls me toward him. His lips meet mine nearly instantly, like an automatic reaction. Like, over the past few weeks, our bodies have become tuned to work together like this, reacting whenever the other is close. And the reaction sends a shiver down my spine, like every other time he touches me. Frank’s fingers brush through my hair, just brushing it back, not pulling or tangling with the strands-- Just feeling. Not pushing anything more while his kids are upstairs. Simply reveling in the closeness, and I was doing the same as my hands rested on his hips, my fingers adding just a little pressure when I drag him closer.

It’s kind of awkward at first when the pizza arrives, sitting down at the dining room table with Frank and the twins. And it only gets more awkward when Cherry turns to look at me and then Frank and demand, “Is Gee gonna be our new Mommy?”

I nearly choke on my pizza and realize even Frank’s eyes have widened considerably. He freezes, a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth but he sets it back down. “Umm… Why would you ask that, sweetie?” He glances over at me and I offer a minute shrug, hiding behind my Pepsi and taking a long drink.

“I saw you kiss him in the kitchen,” Cherry replies. “You used to kiss Mommy. Is Gee gonna be our new Mommy?”

Frank looks down at his lap, biting his lip and staying silent for a long time. My face flares bright red with embarrassment, not having realized that either of the girls witnessed that. I didn’t want them to think I was replacing their mom; I wasn’t. Maybe I wasn’t fond of Jamia, but I wasn’t planning on becoming a replacement anytime soon.

“Cherry, your Mommy will always be your Mommy,” Frank explains in a soft voice, leaning closer to his daughter. “Just like if Mommy gets a new boyfriend, I’m still going to be your Daddy.” He smiles, a heart-shattering smile, and nods slowly. “Does that make sense?”

Cherry thinks for a minute before nodding, a frown etching into her features. She silently takes a bite of her food and it’s Lily that replies. “But I like Gee,” She decides, which surprises me-- She doesn’t talk as much as her sister, but her statement is what catches me off guard even more. “He would be a good Mommy.”

My eyes meet Frank’s over the table, but I can’t read the expression that passes over his face. I can’t tell if it’s anger or agreement, or something entirely different. So I simply swallow the lump that seems stuck in my throat, taking another drink, though it does nothing to calm the sudden clenching of my gut, wringing and twisting inside of me.


	23. Chapter 23

“We can’t--” My weak protest is cut off when Frank’s mouth lowers, his pink lips wrapping tight around my aching erection. My hands instantly tangle through his hair, my head falling back on the mattress, and a strangled moan surges forward from my throat. “Oh fucking hell, Frankie.” His fingernails dig into the exposed skin of my hips, pushing me harder down into the bed so I can’t jerk up when he drags his tongue along the underside of my shaft.

I look down at him, meeting his lust-filled. His eyes meet mine and he deliberately slows his movements, his mouth opening the slightest bit. He slides back and runs his tongue across the slit, precum collecting on the pink muscle, and another pleading whimper leaves me. He’s so attractive like this, taking complete and utter control, leaving me nothing but a writhing mess beneath him, begging for more. Frank grins deviously and lowers his head again and within moments, I’m coming undone, giving his hair one last tug as that familiar warm feeling washes over me.

Just as I’m pulling my jeans up, the doorbell echoes through the house. Frank casts a glance over at me and smirks, ruffling a few fingers through his hair. “I told you we would have time.”

“Cutting it a little close,” I smirk. But Frank just shrugs and pulls me in for a final kiss before turning and leading me downstairs. I stand back a bit, awkward. The doorbell sounds again and Frank sighs, pulling the door open.

I recognize Jamia from the one time I’ve seen her as she and the twins step into the house. The girls notice me immediately. “Gee!” Someone yells happily and I can’t tell which because they’re both bundled up in huge coats and hats. Still, they race toward me, attaching instantly to both of my legs.

I chuckle, smiling down at them. “Hey guys.” I look up to see Jamia’s eyes narrowed at me. “Umm… Hi.” I offer a small wave in her direction, like the gesture will break some of the sudden tension hanging in the air. It does no such thing.

Jamia crosses her arms, her posture one of defiance as she stares me down. “And who are you?”

My throat feels dry and I bite down on my lip, unsure of how to answer. Thankfully, Frank speaks up. “My boyfriend, not that it’s any of your business.”

The woman across from me scoffs and her lips do this weird twitchy thing. For a second I think she’s going to leap forward and tear me into pieces. She turns to face Frank though instead. “If my kids are around strange people, I deserve to know.”

Frank casts me a silent glance and I look down to the girls. “I think Mommy and Daddy want to talk alone,” I tell them. “How about we go upstairs and play.”

The girls nod and run off without telling Jamia goodbye. I’m left to awkwardly follow behind. After a small detour to Frank’s room to grab my backpack, I find the girls in their room, each pulling off the layers of coats and scarves. I sit down in the middle of the floor and wave them over. “You know that Christmas is next week, right?” I ask. Cherry and Lily both nod, instantly excited. I smile and unzip my bag. “Well, Santa is a pretty good friend of mine and he told me you two were on the nice list this year. He gave me something for both of you.” When I pull out the two dolls, the twins’ faces light up. I hand the first doll, a new Elsa doll, to Lily, and an Anna to Cherry. The toys are instantly ripped from my grasp and hugged tightly by the small girls.

Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of yelling. I can’t make out any words, not that I really want to hear whatever is going on between Frank and Jamia. I’m sure it’s not pretty. Unfortunately, the girls hear it, too.

Cherry frowns, studying her new doll. “What does ‘custody’ mean?”

The simple word makes my heart sink and I find myself frowning, too. “Where did you hear that word?” I wonder.

“She heard Mommy say it on the phone,” Lily speaks up. “She was yelling a lot.”

I chew on my lip for a long moment, unsure of what exactly to say. “I don’t know,” I lie. “Maybe we can ask your Dad about it.” And that, I definitely intend to do.

It’s twenty minutes later that the front door slams shut and five minutes after that that Frank comes upstairs to join us. He sees the new dolls and a small smile graces his lips. “Did Mommy get those for you?” He asks, his voice sounding worn out and hoarse. He sits down next to me.

“Santa gave them to Gee!” Lily squeals. “He said we’re on the good list!”

Frank glances over at me and his smile widens. “You didn’t have to do that, Gerard,” He says, but he lays his head down on my shoulder.

I shrug a little. “I wanted to.” I lower my voice, leaning closer. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Frank sits up, nodding and then standing. “Gee and I are gonna go downstairs and get coffee, okay?” He tells the girls.

Cherry looks up at us. “Are you gonna kiss him?” She asks.

Frank smirks. “Probably,” He admits. The twins giggle and Frank replies by sticking his tongue out and the dragging me out of the room.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Frank flips the switch on the coffee pot while I take a seat on the counter. He stands in front of me, his hands on my knees. “Thank you,” He says with a faint smile. “I doubt that Cherry and Lily said thanks when you gave them the dolls. So thank you.”

I shake my head, waving him off. “What were you and Jamia yelling about?” I wonder.

Frank sighs, the smile disappearing completely as he runs a hand through his hair. “When I dropped them off last week, I asked what she had planned for Christmas. I was hoping that I could have the girls that day, ‘cause it’s like tradition, you know? I always make them pancakes while they go through their stockings and then after breakfast, they unwrap presents. My mom usually comes over. But now Jamia wants to keep them on Christmas Eve  _and_ Christmas day which is fucking stupid because she sleeps until like noon and she doesn’t put up a tree or anything. It’s like, suddenly she’s trying to keep them away from me.” He shakes his head, huffing out an angry breath and furrowing his brow. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bitching about this--”

I quickly lace my fingers through his and shake my own head. “I don’t mind,” I admit. “But um… It could be absolutely nothing, but when we were upstairs, Cherry asked me what custody meant. Apparently Jamia was on the phone with someone and they heard her say it.”

Frank’s face seems to go slack, losing all emotion and color. His mouth falls open and then for a split second, he looks terrified.

I hurry on, trying to reassure him, to reassure myself. “She can’t do that, can she?” I ask. “Like… You have joint custody, right? She can’t take them away from you.”

Frank is silent for a long time, his hands tightening around mine, and he bites down on his lip. “That doesn’t mean she won’t try.”

**A/N: Come on. All together now; _Oh shit._**

**Fucking love you. xoRachel**


	24. Chapter 24

Today is quite an important day; Christmas Eve. So many things can happen, either good or bad, and the anxiety is making me pace the length of the living room with my hands stuffed deep into my pockets. What the hell is taking Mikey so long?

“Come on, Mikes!” I yell up the stairs. “We don’t have all fucking day!” To be exact, we have until about four, when Frank is scheduled to pick up the girls from Jamia’s. After a lot of bickering, they came to an agreement; The twins would stay at Frank’s house from four Christmas Eve until one in the afternoon the next day. It wasn’t exactly perfect, but Frank was happy enough with the arrangement.

My brother finally trudges down the stairs, rolling his eyes. “What’s the big hurry?” He wonders.

“I told you, he has to be somewhere at four.” Answers vague enough to let on to half of the truth are best. I can’t be too specific because I hate spinning so many lies, especially when it’s Mikey that I’m lying to, but I can’t avoid his questions forever.

“Right,” Mikey mutters, slipping on his shoes. “And why can’t he just come hang out here?”

_Because if Mom and Dad come home early to find my English teacher chilling in the living room, it might raise suspicion._  “Because screw you, that’s why,” I retort, unable to come up with a believable enough excuse under the pressure. I sigh again. “Just because, okay? Can we leave? Are you ready?”

Mikey stands and raises his hands in a defensive gesture, motioning to the door. I feel my heart beat faster almost immediately, my palms getting sweaty. I nod once and lead my brother out of the house. Needless to say, as I glance around nervously, hating the constant feeling like someone is going to see us walking to a teachers house, my brother seems somewhat surprised that we only go down the street. I walk straight up to the door and knock, ignoring Mikey’s gaze as he takes it in.

Frank answers the door with a smile. He’s wearing long sleeves, hiding most of the tattoos that show his age much more clearly than the rest of his appearance does. He looks nervous, too, and that somehow relaxes me; I’m not the only one scared shitless of how this could turn out.

“Hey,” He offers a wave to my brother as we’re let into the house. “You must be Mikey.”

Mikey nods curtly, sizing Frank up. His natural brotherly instincts must have kicked in and he’s judging my boyfriend within an instant. But as a few tense seconds pass silently, he seems to be pleased and even offers a polite smile of his own. “Yeah. You’re Frank?”

Frank laces his fingers through mine and replies with his own nod. “You want some coffee?” And that’s enough for Mikey to make his decision; He likes Frank.

Ten minutes later, the three of us are sitting around the kitchen, the pot having just finished filling, and Frank doles out mugs of the steaming liquid. I gratefully take mine, downing a burning mouthful.

“Your parents at work?” Mikey wonders casually, taking a small sip of his own drink.

I instantly tense and Frank and I exchange a look. We’d planned for this-- As far as Mikey knows, Frank and I met on Halloween. Frank’s family had just moved here and he was already graduated, was the lie we agreed on. So Frank just forces a noncommittal noise and raises his mug to his lips. “They’re not really around a lot.” Which isn’t a direct lie.

Mikey nods understandingly, glancing at me. “Yeah, Gee and I know how that is. Workaholic parents kinda suck, but it must be nice to have the house to yourself.”

Frank shrugs and nudges my shoulder with his, offering a sly smirk. “I’m not always alone. Gerard keeps me company.” My face flashes bright red and I can literally feel the heat rush to my cheeks at the insinuation in his voice; It’s true, obviously, but my brother does not need to know those specifics.

But Mikey just chuckles and takes another drink. And that’s how most of the afternoon passes. We move from the kitchen into the living room, where Mikey is immediately impressed with the movie collection. Noticing the Disney movies that line the bottom shelf, he quirks an eyebrow.

“Little sisters,” I speak up quickly, casting a glance at Frank. “He has little sisters.”

Frank just nods in agreement and Mikey seems satisfied.

It’s around two-thirty that we’re sitting around, Frank leaning into my side on the loveseat while Mikey seems pleased to have the sofa to himself, that the phone rings. Frank jumps up, grabbing the handheld to Mikey’s left, and puts it to his ear. I can hear a voice on the other end, not able to make out distinct words, but Frank’s face gradually grows paler. He’s quiet for a long moment, just listening, before he looks to both Mikey and I. “I gotta… Um…” He gestures with one hand to the kitchen, disappearing into the other room.

Mikey glances over at me. “Wonder what that’s about.”

I try to eavesdrop, earning a disapproving look from my brother, but I can’t hear anything for a few minutes. After those first few minutes, Frank gets angry. I can hear his voice slowly getting louder until he’s yelling. “Unfit!? How would you even fucking know, it’s not like you’ve ever been around long enough to know!... That’s bullshit, Jamia, and you know it. You can’t fucking do this!... No, don’t you dare hang up on-- Jamia? FUCK!”

And then nothing but silence. Mikey looks at me again. “Who’s Jamia?” He whispers.

I simply shake my head before standing up and going into the kitchen. Frank is standing with his face buried in his hands. The phone is next to him on the counter. “Frankie?” I put a hand on his shoulder and he spins on his heel to face me. His jaw is tight, his eyes red. I’ve never seen him look so scared before, not since that first night together when he realized that being with me could make him lose his kids.

“She’s not letting them come,” He says. His voice is choked with the tears that seem caught in his eyes. “She said if I show up to get them, she’s calling the cops. Gerard, she’s filing for full custody.”

I feel numb. Like I’m in the middle of a dream and I can’t wake up. It’s a fucking nightmare. I can only wrap my arms around Frank, pulling him closer to me as he buries his face in my chest and lets out a weak cry. “I can’t lose them,” He says, his voice aiming for defiance but sounding nothing more than defeated and desperate. “Fuck, Gerard. I can’t lose my kids.”

It’s like a raging memory from my first night with Frank, but this time instead of pushing me away, he’s pulling me closer, and it makes my head spin. Of all the ways I thought today might turn out, this is not one of the scenarios that ran through my head. And this, I don’t know how to deal with.

“She won’t win,” I tell him. I try to make my voice sound confident, but it comes out just as pleading as Frank’s; In all honesty, I don’t know what’s going to happen. “I’ve seen you with them, you’re a better parent than Jamia. They can’t just grant her custody. You can fight it.”

Frank scoffs quietly and leans away a bit, shrugging. “She said she thinks I’m “unfit” to take care of them.”

“That’s bullshit.” I shake my head and run a few fingers through Frank’s hair. I meet his gaze, grazing his jaw with my fingertips. My heart picks up pace and again I feel that overbearing urge to tell him I love him. But I can’t seem to make the words come out; It doesn’t seem like the right time, especially as a throat clears behind me before I can speak. I turn to face my brother who stands awkwardly in the doorway.

“Umm… Everything okay?” Mikey wonders, glancing first to Frank and then at me.

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Peachy.” I force a smile, which I’m sure comes out looking more like a grimace, just as the phone rings again. Frank sighs, obviously not in the mood to deal with anyone else right now, but he grabs the handheld anyway. I see  _J. Nestor_  flash across the screen with an unrecognizable number below and, with Frank’s harsh intake of breath, I come to the conclusion it must be Jamia again.

Frank hits the button hastily and shoves the phone to his ear, his jaw clenching. I can physically feel his body becoming rigid against mine. “What the hell do you want now?”

Standing so close, I can barely make out the small, broken voice on the other end. “Daddy?”

It makes my heart skip a beat when the anger in Frank’s gaze melts away and he looks like he might cry again. “Cherry? Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“No,” The voice replies in childish irritation, accompanied with a melodramatic sigh. “Cherry is in bed.”

“Lily,” Frank corrects with a nod. I feel like I’m intruding suddenly; I should give Frank privacy to deal with this on his own, but he doesn’t look like he has the intention of letting me go anytime soon as he laces his fingers through mine. I glance at Mikey out of the corner of my eye, still watching the scene with confused interest. “Lily, is something wrong? Does Mommy know you have the phone?”

I can practically hear the small girl shaking her head on the other end. She lets out a near silent cry and sniffles loudly. “She was yelling a lot. Daddy, I wanna come home. I don’t like it with Mommy.”

Frank’s bottom lip is quivering and he bites down hard on it. “I know, shh, it’s okay,” He does his best to soothe the little girl, but he can’t stop the tears that well in his own eyes. “I miss you. And I love you, you know that right? But something… Something came up, okay? Daddy can’t come see you today.”

“Daddy…” The little girl starts to whine on the other end, but Frank interrupts her.

“No, no crying Lily, please,” He almost begs. “It’s Christmas tomorrow. You can’t be sad. I promise, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I can see you. Okay?” Lily says nothing, the line silent aside from her sniffling. So Frank presses it again. “ _Okay_?”

“Okay…” Lilly finally manages.

Frank starts to say something else, but the words don’t make it past his throat before a louder voice is erupting from Lily’s side of the conversation. “Cherry, what do you think you’re doing with that?”

Lily heaves another heavy sigh. “ _Lily_ ,” She corrects.

Jamia’s response is a retaliating groan and she sounds to be moving closer. She seems unfazed by the fact that she confused her daughters, and for some reason that pisses me off. “Give me the phone,” She snaps and I can hear it shift hands before the line goes dead.

Frank, with a clenched jaw and wild eyes, hangs up and slams the phone back onto the counter. He meets my gaze for only a second before reaching up and pulling me into a bruising kiss that ends just as quickly as it started. And then he walks around me, past Mikey who steps aside easily, and disappears from the room. I follow behind, finding Frank as he pulls on his shoes in the living room.

“Where the hell are you going?” I ask.

Frank stands up and aggressively grabs his jacket, finding the car keys in the pocket. “To fucking get my kids back.”


	25. Chapter 25

“It’s… Um…” I look down at the object in my hands, turning it over a few times. It’s about the size of a sketchbook. The metallic surface reflects my own visage back to me. Ignoring the fact that I look like utter shit, I fake a smile and look up to Mikey. “Awesome. What the hell is it?”

My brother rolls his eyes and grabs the object from me. He clicks some hidden latch on the side of the flat, square-shaped thingy, which opens to reveal a collection of pencils and pastels, all lined up neatly by color and hardness. This time I don’t have to fake the smile as I take the gift back. “Wow. This is actually really awesome. Thanks, Mikes.”

Mikey acknowledges me with a nod. It’s just after noon on Christmas and our parents have disappeared once again for what they claimed was a “special date.” They’re probably going to spend the entire day at some Christmas party one of their snooty friends is throwing and stumble home drunk at dicks o’clock in the morning to sleep until New Years.

Mikey fidgets for a moment in front of me before sitting down on my bed and narrowing his eyes at me. His gaze is a mixture of concern and hurt as he bites down on his lip, his voice soft when he finally speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks.

Slowly, I shake my head. “Tell you what?”

Mikey scoffs and looks down at his lap. “That Frank has kids.”

I take a deep breath-- I’d been waiting for him to bring this up since we left Frank’s house yesterday-- and begin a futile attempt at denying it. “Mikey--”

But Mikey isn’t listening. He laughs once and suddenly the questions are leaving him like bullets, each one hitting me without a chance to even answer. “How old are they?” He wonders. “He doesn’t have little sisters, does he? Those movies were his kids’. How old is  _he_?” Suddenly, his interrogation stops and he looks up at me, realizing that the only real question that matters has already been said. “Gerard, how old is Frank  _really_?”

I’m quiet for a long moment. I hate lying to Mikey. It’s physically painful, my stomach clenching in knots, so I avert my gaze and close my eyes. “You wouldn’t get it, Mikey.”

“Gerard,” His voice is harder this time, no longer questioning, but demanding. “How fucking old is he?”

I sigh softly and mumble, “Thirty-one…”

Mikey goes deathly silent. After a long silence, the suspense becomes too much and I have to look up at him. His mouth is hanging open slightly, his eyes wide. There’s a dumbfounded look on his face, like he’s not even sure he heard me right. But the facts slowly begin to sink in and Mikey looks panicked. “Holy fucking shit,” He sucks in a sharp breath. “Holy shit. Oh  _shit_. You’re fucking with me, right?”

I bite my lip and shake my head ever so slightly. Mikey jumps off the bed, raking a hand through his straightened hair. He begins pacing the length of my bedroom. I swallow down every word that seems to surge forward, each one feeling lodged in my throat as I watch my brothers swift movements. He’s thinking, he’s recounting the few facts he knows in his head, and I allow him to do that. It’s a lot to take in, I know that, so I sit silently, my leg bouncing anxiously.

Eventually, Mikey’s steps halt and he spins to face me. “Frank is thirty-one,” He says slowly. I nod. “He has kids?”

“Twins,” I comment.

“Charlotte and Lorax,” Mikey recalls.

I roll my eyes at him. “Cherry and Lily.”

Mikey inhales a sharp breath through his nose, his brow furrowing in concentration. “You’re fucking him,” He states. “Gerard, think about that for a second. You’re having sex with someone who’s fourteen years older than you. That’s fucking illegal. That’s like…” He sighs again and frowns. It’s a good thing he doesn’t realize Frank’s my teacher-- That would open a whole new can of ‘ _oh shit_.’ “That’s kinda gross, you know that right?”

“He’s thirty, not eighty,” I retort. “It’s not like he’s old and wrinkly, dude. He’s... “ I cut myself off. There are many words I could use to describe Frank-- Attractive. Fit. Sexy. I shrug limply. “He’s amazing, Mikey. He’s funny and he’s a sarcastic little shit and he likes comic books and stupid movies. Mikey, he’s fucking perfect, okay? You saw that. You met him. So he’s a little older than you thought, but who fucking cares? And I care about him. A lot.” I don’t say just how much I care, simply offering a laugh. “And by some majestic power, he actually likes me back.”

Mikey lets out a long suffering sigh and retrieves the space next to me, sitting down. “Who’s Jamia?” He wonders.

My lips fall into a frown. “His ex-wife,” I admit.

This new information sinks in and Mikey closes his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “He’s thirty-one…” He reminds himself once more. “He was married? Fucking hell, please tell me you didn’t--”

I quickly shake my head, cutting of the question before he can even finish it. “No, no way. You know me way better than that. You seriously think I’d fuck a married man? No. They got divorced way before I even met him.”

Mikey seems relieved, nodding and then shrugging. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Gee.” He says. “I just found out my big brother is hooking up with a dude almost twice his age.” He narrows his eyes again, this time only hurt showing through. “So why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Honestly,” I sigh. “I thought you would freak out. I didn’t know how you would react and I don’t want Frank ending up in jail because of me. You said it yourself, Mikes, this is illegal. You know you cannot tell a single soul about us. Not even Ray. Or Bob. Nobody.”

Mikey nods again, looking sincere. I pull him in for a quick and manly hug before pushing myself off the bed with my new pencil/pastel collection, moving across the room to find room for it on my cluttered desk. While I’m shoving sketchbooks aside, my phone announces it’s presence somewhere on my bed. Mikey shifts a couple sheets out of the way before finding the cell and holding it out. “Who is it?” I ask.

Mikey scrolls through the phone for a second before replying. “Mass email from your teacher,” He informs me. “Just a reminder to finish some Frankenstein essay before break ends.” I nod, my mind already far away from the essay-- I’ve gotten about half of it done. Mikey is silent for a long moment again and I think he must have put my phone back, maybe even left the room, but when I turn around, the small device is still in his hands. His eyes are narrowed again at whatever he’s reading. He looks up at me after a second, suspicious. “How come you already have your teachers contact info saved on here?” He wonders. Slowly, I see the suspicion melt away into a burning anger. “And how come he’s saved as ‘ _Frankie_ ’ instead of ‘ _Mr. Iero_ ’?”

My mouth feels dry. I want to scream that it’s not what he’s thinking, but I can’t because it is exactly what he’s thinking. I could practically see it click in his head, the realization that Mr. Iero  _is_  Frank. “Mikey,” I croak out, barely audible. “I can explain--”

Mikey cuts me off, throwing my phone onto the bed and standing up. He looks furious, gripping both hands into his hair. I think he might start pacing again. “I can’t fucking believe this,” He says, his voice incredulous. “He’s not just thirty, he’s your fucking  _teacher_! Gerard, what in the holy hell is going through your head? How the fuck could you be thinking this is okay?! You fucking prick!” He shoves my chest, causing me to stumble backward into the desk. A few papers fall off, but I can’t seem to look away from my brothers anger. “You lied to me! I’m your brother, and you fucking lied to me!”

“Mikey, you’ve gotta understand--” I shake my head, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Mikey is pissed and he could do literally anything-- He could tell someone and Frank can get in trouble. I have to remain calm.

“Oh, I understand alright,” Mikey interrupts again, his voice laced with venom. “I understand that you’re fucking your teacher! Gerard, that is not normal. There’s nothing even semi-okay with that. You have to get that! He’s fucking using you. He’s a pedophile, Gee, and he’s using you for the sex. He’s corrupting you and screwing with your head for a quick fuck!”

And before I can even think, my fist is connecting with Mikey’s jaw. His words are cut off abruptly and there’s a satisfying ache in my fingers from the punch. My teeth grind together as my eyes narrow at my brother. “You’re an asshole,” I spit. “And you’re wrong. Frank cares about me.”

Mikey looks up at me. There’s a cut on his lip that’s trickling with blood. And without another word, he’s hitting me back. My eye burns with the contact of his fist and I can tell it’s going to turn an ugly shade of black by tomorrow. I can feel it swelling already when Mikey shakes his head, watching me with a mixture of pity and anger. “You’re pathetic, Gerard. Don’t come fucking crying to me when he dumps your sorry ass for some other kid.” I see his figure leaving the room through blurry vision and I blink a few times. When my sight clears, Mikey is gone and I’m alone once again.


	26. Chapter 26

I hear the front door slam a few minutes after Mikey storms out of my room. When I peek through the dark curtains, I see my brother trudging through the snow with his coat wrapped tightly around him. There’s a scowl on his face and I can practically feel his pissiness resonating through the walls back to me. I don’t know where he’s going, as he disappears down the street and around the corner, but I don’t care. He’s upset and I’m almost positive that he’s plotting to kill either Frank or myself, but he’s my brother and I trust him not to do anything stupid. He’s angry, but he’s not an idiot and, regardless of the swelling bruise on my eye that says otherwise, I know he would never intentionally hurt me. He just needs to blow off steam. He’ll come around to my relationship with Frank eventually. I hope…

I sigh and decide I should probably see how bad my eye actually is. I make my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and I’m homebound, into the bathroom. I cringe as soon as I catch my own reflection; My black hair is tangled and greasy, but I push it back with one hand. There are dark bags under both of my eyes, but the left is visibly worse with black and blue already forming, the white part of my eye clouded with sprouting red veins. I have only a small lingering sense of satisfaction at the tiny cut on my brother’s lip, as I obviously got the rougher end of this fight.

When I wander back into my bedroom, I immediately retrieve my phone. I scroll through a few contacts before finding Frank’s number and pressing the cell to my ear. It rings for an agonizingly long time before going to voicemail and I hang up dejectedly. I fall onto the bed and bury my face in the pillow, flinching at the pressure on my black eye and groaning.

I don’t know how long I stay like that, wrapped up in sheets and self pity, but I hear Mikey come home after awhile. He says nothing to me before going into his own room. The door doesn’t slam this time and I take comfort in that.

The sun is starting to set when I finally drag myself out of bed. I think I may have fallen asleep at some point, but the few hours I stayed facedown seem to blur together and I can’t really be sure. Grabbing for my phone again, I realize it’s only just five. There are no new messages or missed calls from Frank and I frown, hitting redial and trying his number again.

This time, he answers. He sounds exhausted and kind of sick again, his throat thick and rough. “Hello?”

“Hey,” I bite down on my lip and fidget nervously with the hem of my shirt. I feel awkward suddenly-- He probably doesn’t even want to talk to me, but the waiting is killing me. I need to see him. “Can I come over?”

There’s a pause and then Frank sighs softly. “Yeah. I want to see you.”

Within minutes, Frank is letting me into his house. He looks like he hasn’t slept, with dark eyes and messy hair, the same clothes he was wearing yesterday. There’s a rugged look to him that I find unbelievably sexy, but the forced smile and sadness in his eyes catches my attention.

Franks pulls me into the living room where he already has two mugs ready and filled to the brim with coffee. I thank him, only taking a sip before focusing back on him. He narrows his eyes and catches my chin, tilting my head toward the light. “What the hell happened to you?”

“My brother,” I admit. I look down, feeling nervous and slightly embarrassed. “He kinda… found out. That you’re my teacher.”

Frank inhales sharply and with a glance at him, he looks terrified. “And he hit you?”

“In all fairness, I hit him first.” I shrug, reaching for Frank’s hand and lacing my fingers through his. “He freaked out and he’s pissed at me, but I know him. He won’t tell anyone.”

Frank nods silently, trying to look assured. I nudge his knee with mine and squeeze his hand gently. “What about the twins?” I ask. It makes my heart twist in my chest when I realize they’re not here. Which means they’re still with Jamia.

Frank shakes his head and frowns. His lip quivers slightly, but I pretend not to notice. “My lawyer says I need to back off and give Jamia space. Showing up at her doorstep and demanding to see my own kids apparently makes me look bad. He said the best thing I can do right now is fill out the paperwork requesting weekend custody.”

“Weekend custody?” I blurt out. “No, that’s less than you have now. How the fuck is that even fair?”

“Gerard…” Frank starts sadly, but I’m not listening.

“It’s bullshit, Frank,” I interrupt, anger surging up in me at the thought of Jamia taking the girls away from Frank. He’s a good fucking parent, he deserves to see his kids! “Look, you can still fight it. Forget about giving her space, Jamia needs to see that you care about them. She’s the fucking unfit one!”

“Gerard.” Frank tries again, his voice a little louder this time. He brings up his free hand to run a few fingers down my jaw. He smiles softly, a pitiful, heart wrenching gesture, and his lip quivers again. I lean into his touch and frown. Frank’s eyes search mine for only a moment longer before he leans in and kisses me slowly. It lasts only a few moments, his lips moving against mine, and then he pulls away. He looks like he might start crying again, and I have the sudden urge to just hug him until he smiles.

But then Frank trails his fingers across my jaw, brushing over my lower lip, and his next statement is nothing more than a broken whisper. “Gerard, I think we need to break up.”


	27. Chapter 27

I never really understood the phrase “blood running cold” until this moment. I never realized that it was a real feeling until Frank said those whispered words;  _I think we need to break up_. It’s like my heart just stopped working, the blood chilling in my veins then freezing on spot. Frank’s hand feels cold on mine suddenly, his fingers still on my cheek, but I don’t feel them, not really.

I can only stare at him dumbly for a long moment, sure I must have heard him wrong. But when he simply watches me, biting down not so gently on his lip, I realize no; I definitely heard him right. “What?”

Frank’s hand tightens around mine and he looks like he’s already gotten a speech prepared. This isn’t a spur of the moment decision-- He’s been thinking about this. “I don’t think I can do it anymore,” He admits. His voice is heavy in my ears, his words settling with unease in my head. “Gee, I care about you. You know that, But…” A single tear slips and Frank curses under his breath, wiping it away and turning hastily away from me. The movement tears his hand from mine and I’m left feeling only colder. Franks stands, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t keep doing this to you, Gerard. I hate what being around me does to you.”

I shake my head slowly, not grasping what he’s saying. “It makes me happy.”

But Frank just sighs and frowns at me. It feels patronizing suddenly, like I’m some little kid and he’s… My teacher. “No, Gerard. You’re seventeen. You don’t need to be worrying about my shit. You should be able to spend your time doing something fun, not worrying about when I’m going to see my kids again. And look at your eye! Your brother punched you because of me. I don’t want to be the reason your brother is pissed at you. God, Gerard I’m fucking toxic. I won’t be the one to bring you down. I can’t just stand back and watch you get wrapped up in my shit because that’s selfish.”

My tongue feels weighted in my mouth, unable to move and yell at him and tell him that it’s not selfish because I want the same thing. I can’t seem to speak, only managing to watch Frank with pleading eyes, willing him to take his words back.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he sits down next to me again, reaching forward with a single shaking hand to take my own. “When we first started this,” He says. “You said it was up to me, right? Because I know what you want, and the rest is up to me. What if this is what I want? What if I want to stop hurting you?”

I want to tell him I love him. I want to kiss him and handcuff him to the bed and fuck some sense into him, but my brain doesn’t register any of those things as actual options.

In the end, I give Frank one final, lingering kiss, hoping he’ll change his mind, and leave the house alone.


	28. Chapter 28

Nearly two weeks pass. I pick up my phone every day, staring at it, wishing it would ring, but it doesn’t. Frank doesn’t make any effort to contact me and, after two unreplied text messages, I give him the courtesy of leaving him alone. He doesn’t want to talk to me, he’s making that pretty damn obvious, so I give him the space he wants.

I’m reduced to stalking in order to see him, and even that isn’t very often. I walk past his house every few days, never stopping, but I don’t think he notices. Once, when staring longingly through my bedroom window at the house down the street, I catch a glimpse of him taking the twins inside. My chest aches when I see them, but I turn away and go back to drawing. I wonder if he ever got things worked out with Jamia and the lawyers about custody, but I refrain from calling him to ask. It’s none of my business anymore.

New Years passes uneventfully. Mikey goes to Ray’s house and my parents go to some work party, so I’m left in the house alone. I pass out on the sofa before midnight even strikes. I wonder absently if Frank celebrated. I have the sudden image of him with Jamia and the kids, the girls cheering in the background and drinking sparkling cider while Frank pulls his ex-wife in for a New Years kiss. I immediately close my eyes and try to erase the image from my brain.

It’s Saturday when Mikey finally comes into my room, sitting down in the middle of my floor without a word. Eventually, he sighs. “Did something happen between you and Frank?”

I shrug, not really wanting to tell him that Frank broke up with me. It will only go to serve his beliefs that Frank was using me for sex.

Mikey scoots across the floor closer to my desk and pokes my leg. “I’m sorry for what I said. I mean, I’m not convinced that Frank is teacher-of-the-year all of a sudden, but you haven’t left the house in six days. Are you okay?”

I look down at my lap and offer another shrug, this one an actual answer. “I don’t know,” I admit. I sigh heavily and meet my brothers gaze. “If you tell me he was using me for sex, I swear to God I will piss on everything you love.”

Mikey’s eyes widen and he nods.

I bite my lip. “He broke up with me. He said he was sick of dragging me into his shit, that he didn’t want to be the reason you hated me--”

“I would never hate you, Gerard,” Mikey interrupts, shaking his head. “You’re my brother. And yeah, I freaked out when I found out he’s your teacher, but I could never hate you.”

I knew this already, but hearing Mikey actually say it makes me smile softly. “Yeah, I know. But Frank thinks he’s bad for me or something. He thinks being together is hurting me, but it’s not. I fucking miss him, it’s not seeing them that’s hurting me.”

Mikey watches me with narrowed eyes for a long time, a smile worming it’s way onto his face. “You love them,” He states. “Gerard, you actually love them. All of them. Not just Frank, but his kids, too.”

I fall silent, not denying or confirming his words, but my silence is enough for Mikey. He lets out a laugh and nudges me again. “Wow. I never thought I’d see the day when you actually fell for someone. And someone with kids. That’s fucking crazy, man.” I roll my eyes, but Mikey is serious again within seconds. “So how are you getting him back?” He wonders.

I reply with the shake of my head. “I’m not,” I tell him. “This is what Frank wants. So I’m leaving him alone. I’m not getting him back.”

Mikey heaves to his feet, a spark in his eyes when he pushes me away from my desk and grabs my laptop. “Yes you are,” He says. “And I know exactly how you’re going to do it.”

When Monday rolls around, I dread school. I know that I’ll have to see Frank, and I’m not ready to. But, if Mikey’s plan actually works, then seeing Frank could be a good thing. It’s a long shot, I know this, but it’s the only shot I’ve got.

By seventh period, I’m shaking with nerves. A ball of anxiety knots in my stomach, my palms sweaty. I clutch a pencil, twisting it between my fingers. I want to smoke, but I didn’t have the chance to sneak out during lunch, so I’m left feeling jittery.

Frank comes into the classroom a few minutes after the bell rings. He has a stack of papers in his hand and my heart thumps even harder against my ribcage. He falls into the chair behind his desk, unusual since he normally likes to interact with the class and walk around. But when he looks up, yawning as his eyes scan over the room, I’m reminded of that first week, when he was just my teacher. He looks like shit, with dark eyes and a frown etched onto his features. He has his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal some of the tattoos I’ve grown accustomed to seeing.

“Hope everyone had a good winter break,” Frank says with absolutely no enthusiasm. He tries to fake a small smile and ends up grimacing at us. A few kids mumble a response, and someone asks how Frank’s break was. “Exhausting,” He admits. “But I’m happy to be back.” He holds up the papers and rises to his feet. “About half of you emailed me your Frankenstein essays. The other half of you, they are due today. If you haven’t already turned it in, pass it up.” I wait as Frank collects the finished essays and then hands out the ones he already has graded. “I had the chance to read most of the essays I received,” He continues. “If you don’t get yours back today, you’ll probably get it back by Friday.”

When my essay is laid upside down on my desk, I immediately flip it over, anxious to see the grade. Mikey helped me type most of it, but I was more than pleased with our effort. However, in red marker that the top of the page is written the grade;  _63/100. D-_.

Before I can actually censor myself, I’m blurting out, “What the hell?”

The class falls silent and Frank returns to the front of the room. He meets my gaze and quirks an eyebrow. “Is there a problem, Gerard?”

I scoff and hold up my essay. “Yeah, there is. Why the hell did I get a D?”

Frank’s gaze is guarded, hard and authoritative. “Please remember you’re still in school, Mr. Way,” He says. “Mind your language. And if you have a question about your grade, bring it up to me after class. We can discuss it then.”

I narrow my eyes and clench my jaw. “I want to discuss it now,” I retort, actually getting pretty pissed.

Frank sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Your essay was very well written,” He explains. “But you didn’t write about the topic. The essay was supposed to be describing all of the incidents that went to prove that Frankenstein’s creature was in fact a monster and therefore seen as inhuman. You didn’t do that. Your entire essay explained every reason why you thought he  _wasn’t_ a monster.”

“Yeah,” I nod in agreement. “Because maybe I don’t think he’s a monster.”

“The essay was not about your opinion,” Frank says, sighing irritably. “So you got a D.”

“But that’s bullshit!” I exclaim.

Frank sucks in a sharp breath and his jaw clenches. “Language,” He reminds me once again. “Principal's office now. If you want to argue about your paper, then see me after school, but you’re done interrupting my class.”

I glare at him for only a moment longer before grabbing my bag and storming out of the room.

I don’t go to the office. Instead, I make my way down the main hallway toward the locker room. There’s a back door that leads out to the football field. Outside, I hide behind the bleachers, more to shield myself from the freezing wind than from view-- Nobody ever comes out here in the winter, so I don’t have to worry about being caught-- and pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

I skip both of my next classes, hiding out in the boys locker room and entertaining myself with breaking into each locker and switching around the belongings. When the last bell finally rings, I slip from the locker room and head back to Frank’s classroom. When the last few students file out, I move in and close the door behind me. Flipping the lock, just to make sure no one comes in, I turn to Frank. He’s hunched over his desk, looking distraught.

I clear my throat, making him look up. He looks sad, tired, and only slightly upset. “You came to talk about your essay?”

I nod because it’s kind of true. “I deserve more than this,” I say, holding up the paper. I’m not just talking about the grade, though-- I deserve more from Frank. “I mean, what the hell?”

Frank sighs and moves around the desk to take the essay from my hands. He flips through a few pages, leaning back against his desk. He’s closer to me now than he has been in two weeks and I fight the urge to reach forward and run my fingers down his jaw. “It’s good,” He admits. “But it’s not the right topic. You were supposed to tell what made the creature so monstrous. Not why you thought he wasn’t.”

“But what if I think the creature is just being portrayed wrong?” I demand, staring at Frank, ignoring the paper in his hands. “What if it’s really Victor that’s the monster? He was the one that started the whole mess with the creature because he was being selfish. He knew exactly what he was doing with the creature, he knew it was dangerous, and he didn’t care.”

Frank looks up at me, finally catching onto what I’m doing and narrowing his eyes at me. We both know we’re not talking about the paper anymore. “That doesn’t change the fact that the creature has his own mind. Look at what he did-- he destroyed Victor’s life.”

I bite down on my lip. “Is that what you think you’re doing, Frank?” I ask. “You think you’re destroying my life?” Frank remains silent and I step closer to him, finally allowing myself to reach forward and grasp the fabric of his tie between my fingers. “I don’t think he’s a monster. I think the creature just wants someone to love him. And I think maybe he should stop pushing away the person who does.” I take a deep breath and press on. My leg nudges Frank’s, parting and slipping between both of his. “I miss you. And I wrote a fucking six page essay to get you to realize that. Admittedly, Mikey helped me write most of it, but the fact is still there. You’re not dragging me into your shit and I want you to see that. I love you, Frankie.”

And then his lips are on mine, pressing and pulling and I’m not even sure who moves first, but it doesn’t matter because suddenly we’re moving together. We’re one entity, all teeth and tongue and hands, as I push him back onto the desk. It feels thrilling and addicting and I never want to let this feeling go. His hands lace through my hair as my own wander all over his body, memorizing and recognizing the feeling as he squirms beneath me. There’s a small part of my mind that is realizing this is a bad idea-- we’re still at school, on Frank’s  _desk_ \-- but I don’t care. I need him, more than anything.

His mouth breaks away from mine with a dirty moan and I kiss my way down his neck to the base of his throat. “Gee,” He whimpers, breathless. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I was wrong. I miss you. I love--” He breaks off with another pleading noise when I slip my hand down his jeans, stroking my fingers against the growing member. My thumb drags across the slit, my teeth scraping the skin just below his ear, and his previous statement is finished in a single, shaking breath. “Love you, Gerard.”

I grin, loving the sound of his voice moaning for me. Still, I move my lips back to his, swallowing the delicious sounds he’s making, knowing we have to be quiet. The school is probably mostly empty by now, but there’s no way I’m going to risk getting caught-- I just got Frank back. There’s no way in hell I’m losing him again.

**A/N: So…. This is actually the last real chapter. I’m going to make an epilogue, but this is basically it. It’s been quite a rough ride, hasn’t it? Especially that part in the middle with the translating issues (*cringes*) But we have actually reached the end. When I started this book, I had an intent to make it maybe 5-10 chapters long and here we are on chapter 27. I have each and every one of you to thank for that (including badmcrfics on twitter. You the bomb, bro. But you should probably read more than just the summary…) So thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read any or all of this story. You guys are amazing.**

**The epilogue should be up soon. <3**

**Fucking love you. xoRachel**


	29. Epilogue: The very end.

_One Year Later_

The Spring air is chilly this early in the morning. It’s a Friday, March 27th to be exact, and just past eleven. The afternoon sun has yet to warm the surrounding Jersey air so I tug at the jacket that clings loosely to my body. Frank has work-- After quitting his job at the High School, he got a position at the local college as the new English professor. As for myself, after graduating last year, I decided to take a gap year and apply to a few more places before deciding where I actually want to go. I’ve got my sights set on the Manhattan University in New York, but I’ve been waiting nearly three months for either an acceptance or rejection letter-- Both were equally possible, really.

I grab the mail and trudge back inside, almost being tackled to the floor as soon as the door is shut behind me. Cherry attaches to my left leg while Lily claims the right. “Gee!” They both exclaim, bursting into fits of giggles. “Monster!”

I look up just as Mikey rounds the corner into the room, on hands and knees, growling and smiling. “Oh no!” I drop the mail into a pile on the ground and pick up the girls, one in each arm. “Run away!” I bolt into the kitchen before setting them down, both laughing hysterically by now. “I think you can take him,” I tell them. “Mikey’s too scrawny to be scary.”

The girls nod in agreement and race back the way we came. I hear Mikey’s surprised yelp and a thud and wander into the living room behind them. Mikey is laying flat on the ground, Cherry and Lily sitting on his back.

“I surrender!” Mikey pleads.

But the girls won’t accept surrender. Instead, Cherry begins bouncing. “Horsey!” She yells. “Mikey, be a horsey!”

With a defeated groan, Mikey pulls himself back to all fours and trudges along the tile floor. His knees probably hurt and he looks way too thin to carry both of the girls on his back without snapping in half, but he’s smiling when he moves past me. He pauses to grin up at me and gesture toward the door with one hand. “Check the mail,” He comments. “I think you’ve got something.”

As he begins neighing and goes into the kitchen with the girls, I move back to the doorway. I collect the dropped mail, shuffling it into a pile before flipping through. Most of it is for either my mom or dad, something for Mikey, and a single envelope for me. The front is a plain white, only marked in one corner with the return address, and my stomach drops. Manhattan University.

I quickly go to the kitchen, abandoning the mail that isn’t mine on the counter and proceeding to rip open the envelope. I don’t have time to be nervous, my eyes instantly skimming over the words.

_Dear Mr. Gerard Way,_

_We are pleased to inform you that your portfolio has been accepted into the Manhattan University!_

My heart nearly stops. My movements freeze and I reread the words again before I feel the grin spreading across my lips. I actually got accepted.

I let the letter drop to the counter in front of me, retrieving my phone instead. I automatically hit Frank’s number and hold the cell to my ear-- I know he’s probably in the middle of class, but I can’t wait to tell him the good news. I sigh heavily when I get his voicemail and hang up. Spinning on my heel, I turn quickly to face Mikey. “Can you watch them?” I ask, gesturing to the girls.

Mikey grins and waves me off. “Yeah, go,” He says. “I’ve got the kids.”

Last year, after Jamia demanded full custody, it was brought to light that she was fucking her married boss. Not only did the affair cost her dignity, but also her job. And with no job, she lost custody of the twins so fast she got fucking whiplash and ended up flipping burgers at some diner. After I graduated, I started watching the twins for Frank while he was at work. They took to Mikey rather quickly-- The three of them are practically best friends now. It doesn’t seem to bother Mikey so much anymore that Frank has kids-- He absolutely adores them.

I thank Mikey and wave to the girls before sprinting from the house and to the car. It’s only when I reach the college campus that I realize I have no idea where Frank actually teaches. I wander around lost for almost ten minutes before some student takes pity on me and asks, “Do you need help?”

“Yes!” I exclaim, probably sounding way too excited to be helped. But the kid just laughs. “I’m looking for Fr-- Professor Iero…?” It comes out sounding more like a question, but the boy just smiles and nods.

“I’m actually heading there now. Come on.” He leads me down the sidewalk, the opposite way I was heading, and I offer him a small “thanks.” “So are you a Freshman?” He wonders.

I nod. “Yeah. Well, I mean no. Kind of,” I admit. “Soon. Just not here, I guess.”

The kid seems confused by my answer, so he doesn’t ask anymore and the walk passes in silence. When we finally enter the correct lecture hall, I spot Frank easily at the front of the class. There’s maybe fifty kids total, spread out but mostly collected near the front of the room-- I understand the feeling. When Frank’s teaching, it’s kind of addicting. It’s mesmerizing to watch the way he gestures enthusiastically or starts talking way too fast to catch every word.

The boy who led me here takes a seat a few aisles from the front and Frank smirks from his seat on the desk. “Antonio-- Nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry,” The kid huffs. “Had to play tour guide for the newbie.” He gestures to me with the end of a pencil and Frank looks up.

His smile falls almost immediately and he stands up. “Gerard? What’s up?” His face pales and he takes another step closer. “The kids--”

I shake my head, waving him off before the question even leaves his mouth. “No, the girls are fine. They’re with my brother.”

Frank nods slowly, a small smile making it’s way back onto his face. I’m at the front of the room now, only a few feet away. “So what’s up? Is everything okay?”

I nod fervently, not even bothering to contain the grin on my face. “I couldn’t wait to tell you,” I admit. “Frankie, I got it. I got the letter from Manhattan. I got accepted.”

Frank’s own smile widens and he takes the final few steps closer to me, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so fucking proud of you, babe.”

I can hear the whispers of a few students resonate through the room, aware of the fact that the entire class is watching us, but I don’t care. Let them watch. When Frank pulls away, he’s still smiling, but it seems sadder than before. “What does this mean?” He wonders. “You’re going to New York. You’ll come back on weekends, right? To see me and the twins?”

I bite my lip and shake my head slowly. “No, Frank.” I run a few fingers through his hair, smiling. “Because I want you to go with me. All of you. I want to be a big happy fucking family, I want to be their new Mommy. I’m not losing you guys. I want you.”

Slowly, Frank seems to realize what I’m asking, and he nods with a growing smile. His hands tighten, his fingers latching onto a few strands of hair near the base of my neck and pulling my face closer. Before he has the chance to say anything, I speak. “Fucking love you, Frank.”

And then he doesn’t have the chance to reply because I’m kissing him, hard and desperate, needing him to see just how true the words are. I feel him melt into my touch, his lips moving perfectly with mine. Words aren’t important in that moment because he’s showing me everything, the way he pulls me closer and kisses me harder. I can tell exactly what he’s thinking.

_Fucking love you, too._

**The end.**


	30. Shameless.

So many people asked for a sequel and for awhile, I was not ready to give one.

_Things have changed._

The sequel is called [Shameless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4209159/chapters/9512148) and the first chapter is up now.


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